Hysteria
by sbyamibakura
Summary: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins. Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc. "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I trusted you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."
1. Reflection

Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I_ trusted_ you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

_Flashbacks are in italic._

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter One -

Reflection

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Exhausted and hurt would be the biggest understatement that a person could make. Every bone in his body, every muscle, everything in him was screaming in agony from the beating he took at the hands of his former partner-former teammate. Dean had, no damnit, _Ambrose_ had really given it to him. He hadn't held back in the slightest in anything. He hadn't expected anything less from him. But still, that emotion, those _words_, they had taken him aback greatly.

The anger, he expected. That rage, that burning emotion that no one could fake, that fire that was often a double edged sword to Ambrose. He burned brightly at both ends. Seth knew he couldn't help it; it was who Ambrose was. He did everything with passion, exuberence, energy. Dean Ambrose never did things lightly. Whether that was like...or hate. He put everything into whatever he did; he couldn't help himself. Which is why he knew after what he did, that Ambrose would be on him like a hawk. He knew it.

It still didn't change anything.

It was something that had to be done. The fact that he thought about it since then? What doing that meant? What it meant to do it to Roman and to Dean? Well that was something that couldn't be helped. There was a _plan_ and he knew what it would mean if he failed. And he was more than just determined to not let it happen; he _refused_ to let it happen. So he would take the punishment, the pain to make sure his plan succeeded.

But then the bastard had to look at him that way, had to speak in that tone, speak those words. Despite his aching body, those words were what sliced through him worst of all. It was a reminder of many things in his life that he couldn't have anymore. It didn't matter than Dean didn't know the real truth of why he betrayed them that day; the words still cut deep and they reminded him of their time together. All three of them. Whether traveling on the road together, or eating together, working out, talking about their hopes, their dreams. Speaking with Roman while Dean snored in the next room or laughing at Dean while he did his Dusty Rhodes impersonation. It was the little things that were getting to him, grating on him, making it hard to continue his plan. He should have expected Dean's stubborness and strength of will; he just happened to underestimate Dean Ambrose a little _too_ much and that could lead to problems.

And that made it hard when he was trying his best to save the man.

He felt stuck. He was stuck between a rock, a hard place, and the unrelenting mass of energy and fire known as Dean Ambrose. But he couldn't have told him back then. As much as he wanted help, it wouldn't have worked; Roman was much too obvious in his loyalties. Everyone knew he would always have the back of the men who became his Brothers. No one would accept that his betrayal was real.

And if Dean knew? He'd make a beeline for Triple-H's office before Seth could even finish his sentence, despite that being the worst possible action. Dean couldn't know. It didn't matter, it _couldn't_ matter, that Dean hated him or wanted to see him suffer. After all that Dean had been through in his life, after all he had done for Roman, for _Seth_, he would _not_ let him fall.

Even if he had to sleep on this bed of nails for a hundred years.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You're going to tear a hole in the carpet with your pacing."

"Shut it. You shouldn't even be here. And I'm the one paying for the damn room." Dean sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, looking at the face of his Brother. His only remaining Brother. He finally sits in a chair across from Roman, propping his feet up on the small table near him. "Sorry, Ro. Just...keyed up."

"I know." Roman says. He was still hurting, but he was mending. It would be a lengthy process, but that didn't mean that he would keep a blind eye to what was going on in the company; especially when it came to Dean. And Seth. "I don't blame you. Especially after last night; still can't believe he showed up and interupted you like that."

"Huh?" Dean looks back at him. "Oh, Wyatt? I could care less about that asshole. I mean, I _am_ ticked off that he interupted my match but it ain't nothin' I can't handle. Dealt with him before."

Roman was careful not to mention that back then it had been him, Dean, and _Seth_ taking on the Wyatt Family, not just Dean on his own. It was times like these that made Roman angry that he was hurt. The fact that he couldn't properly stand on his own two feet yet and take care of his Brothers. Because, betrayal or not, Seth was still his Brother. And he planned to get them all together for a talk sooner rather than later.

"Yeah, but with these packages we've been seeing he might have more goons at his disposal. Just try and be careful, alright? Mind you, I know you won't listen to me, but I can at least say I tried."

Dean snorts.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The Authority, of course, were pleased. Finally the thorn in their side, the pest, known as Dean Ambrose had been taken care of once and for all and would finally move on; with Wyatt nipping at his heels now, they knew that he would be focused on the man who cost him his revenge.

Seth, of course, knew better.

That was the problem (one of many) that the Authority had. They underestimated. They especially underestimated Dean in the ways that truly meant something. But it wasn't something they were ever likely to pick up. To pick up on it meant knowing the in's and outs of Dean Ambrose and Seth could say with damn near certainty that the only people who knew Dean Ambrose on that fundamental level were himself and Roman Reigns. While he was certainly not in Dean's good graces, he still knew him. Knew him better than probably anyone he had ever known and maybe more than he'd ever know anyone else after.

He knew this would be a critical Raw. Both in how he reacted, acted and spoke, as well as how Dean himself reacted. Although he knew Dean very well, that didn't mean he could always figure out what the man would do; the man was the very definition of loose cannon, of wild and impulsive. Although Dean was sure to be pissed off at Bray Wyatt for showing up when he did-and no, he had no idea of it happening, thank you very much-that certainly did _not _mean that he wouldn't still show up when he and the Authority were out there, or during his later match with Cena.

He sighs, straightening out the lapels of his black jacket. He had but moments to compose himself and put on the arrogant, egotistic smirk that everyone, including Dean, had come to know. After having been in this half state of himself and this persona he had volunteered himself to be, it was getting increasing harder to remember who he _truly_ was; that he wasn't the asshole who came out week after week, did the things he did, said the things he did. There was a difference in egotism and confidence. Before it had been confidence, not egotism. Because it was true; he, Dean, and Roman _had_ been unstoppable. They _had _been unbeatable. Had been the ultimate team. Had come from drastically different circumstances but yet had still managed to form not just one cohesive whole but a _family_. When they called themselves Brothers, it hadn't been mere words.

For them, it had been truth.

It was increasingly hard to remember who he truly was; until he would hear Dean's voice, or see his face and then everything, _everything_, would come rushing back and he would then remember just who and what he actually was. He was Seth Rollins. He had a mission he do, no matter what it took. Even if Roman hated him. Even if Dean hated him. Even if those facts tore at something raw and pulsing in him.

"Hey, Rollins. You ready?" the voice of Kane asks, echoing slightly down the hallway.

_"Hey, Rollins. You ready?"_

_"Yeah, just give me a sec."_

_"Lookin' for something?" Dean leans casually against the doorway of the hotel room._

_"Yeah. A little gray-"_

_"You mean this?" Dean pulls a hand out of his pocket and dangles a gray band in his hand._

_"The hell? Give it back!" He makes a grab for it but misses as Dean, quick as a snake, moves around him and further into the hotel room._

_"Nuh uh. Not till you tell me what it's for. I mean, doesn't seem like much." He starts to pull it back between his fingers like a rubber band._

_Seth tackles him._

_They both fall to the ground with an oof. Seth lets out a breath, as the air gets knocked out of him as he lands atop Dean. He grabs the band, which had fallen somewhere around Dean's head and puts it securely in his pocket._

_"Leave my shit alone, Dean."_

_"It was on the ground. Not like I filched it from your pocket or something."_

_Seth snorts, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Excuses, excuses."_

_"Well fuck you too, Seth."_

_"Fuck you first, asshole."_

_He feels shaking and it takes a moment to realize it's Dean and he's __**laughing**__, really laughing. He had never heard it from him before. Not like that. He feels something light flutter in his chest and he feels his breath catching as he realizes he's still laying on Dean. He looks down into Dean's face and finds Dean staring straight at him._

_"Hey, you guys ready?"_

_He jumps at the sound of Roman's voice and quickly moves himself off of Dean. He glances at Roman, but Roman doesn't seem at all fazed by what he just saw. _

_"Yeah..." He is careful not to look at Dean. "Yeah, I'm ready."_

He opens his eyes and sets his shoulders. He glances into the mirror and puts on the smile that he knew Dean, and everyone else, hated.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I can't believe him!"

"Calm down, Steph; he's just frustrated. I'll talk to him. I'll make him see reason. Still," Triple-H continues, looking over at Seth who is holding his sides gingerly. He was already sore enough; Orton RKO-ing him definitely didn't help him at all. "Our boy did good on the mic. Good job, Seth."

Something withered inside him every time Triple-H or someone else in the Authority paid him a compliment. But he was used to it enough now that he could answer "Thanks, Hunter. I really appreciate that. I've learned from the best." without feeling like he'd throw up in his mouth. Mostly.

Hunter gives him a pat on the back and Seth is quick to get away, saying he wanted to get a shower and prep for his match later on in the night. One of the "perks" of being an associate of the Authority (a nice way of saying lackey, really; everyone got what it meant. Well, everyone but Stephanie and Hunter) was the nicest lockers to use for storage and showering. Hell, even _Cena_ didn't this sort of treatment (although Stephanie and Hunter weren't a fan of Cena, Vince was, and Cena got some extra perks that others didn't. To be fair to John, he didn't _ask _for them; Vince essentially laughingly strong-armed him into taking them.) Still, he thinks as he undresses in the empty locker room and heads into the shower, he'd give up all the perks in a instant if he could just get Dean and Roman to talk to him again. Really, properly talk to him. The fact that all of this mess he had gotten into was of his own doing was not lost on him. Rather it was something he dwelled on often.

Even in places they had never technically been, Roman and Dean haunted his every footstep. Although the locker room he was in was not one that he, Roman, and Dean had ever ventured into, it still had a familiar enough look that it reminded him of the times they shared together in locker rooms. Even if everyone else on the roster hated them, were jealous of them and their talent, they had each other. It had been...

_"So I tell the guy "the fuck would I do with half a tuna fish sandwich?" and he gets all pissed off n' shit and-" _

_"Was this before or after the homeless guy in the park threw bird feed at you?"_

_"After! Come on, Ro, keep up! Anyway, so he's waving around his badge around and I'm like "I thought you guys had more pressing shit than to harass a guy trying to eat some fucking potato chips in the park." and he starts foaming in the mouth. Really, you guys should have-"_

_"He did not foam at the mouth, Dean." Seth puts in, shaking his head, doing his best to keep the shit-eating grin off his face that was demanding to come out. People called Dean a lot of things; mad, crazy, insane...well, mostly shit that related to crazy, but potentially-very possibly-crazy or not, the man had a way with grabbing your attention. He had charisma for __**days**__; Seth supposed it helped that Dean picked one of the best mediums in which having a good way with words helped you immensely._

_"Bite me, Rollins. You tellin' this story or am I? Keep on and I'll show you which of us dogs has the biggest bite."_

_"I'd like to see you try." Seth challenges, smirking at Dean, leaning back in the steel folding chair._

_"If you insis-"_

_"Enough." Roman's voice was quiet, but firm. Although The Shield technically had no leader, Roman had quickly taken a sort of role to that effect. Not that it bothered Seth, or Dean for that matter. The things he spoke out on were different things, anyway. Ones that some people might not get, but ones that the other two people in the group did. They were all Brothers; they had made a vow awhile before to always have each others backs, to be there for one another, to protect each other. In such a cutthroat world as professional wrestling, the number of people who had your number versus people who actually had your back was drastically different. And in them becoming Brothers, Roman had become the role of Big Brother, not just protector. Roman smiles to let them both know that he wasn't honestly angry. It took a lot to __**truly**__ make Roman mad, after all. "Get back on with your story?"_

_"Oh, yeah. Right. So the tuna fish sandwich is starting to stink a hole in my back pocket from the heat outside-"_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He wasn't sure how to feel; on one hand, it was nice not getting the shit kicked out of him by Dean during, before, or after his match against Cena. On the other hand, not having him close at hand, having Dean's laser focus now on Bray Wyatt instead...it didn't sit right with him. They had dealt with the Wyatt's before as a group. The Wyatt's were unpredictable and hard to deal with. They had managed, because _that's what they did_, but still, it had been tough. And this time Dean would have no back up. No Roman there as Brother, as back-up. No Seth as either, certainly. Dean was tough. He was a tough son of a bitch. He was tough, ruthless, determined, someone who never gave up, unpredictable in many regards, as was Bray Wyatt. They were evenly matched on many regards. But one.

Dean had no one watching his back.

"God_damnit_!" he hisses softly, hitting the wall in front of him, pressing his forehead against it. "Damnit."

"Don't worry about it, Rollins. Best you got out of there while you did; the ring filled up so quickly." Kane's voice says suddenly behind him.

He manages not to jump at the sound but it's a close thing. He moves away from the wall, looking at Kane warily. Kane was an enigma to him; for all the man wore suits and did what the Authority asked, or told, of him, it still felt like looking at a tiger in a cage, biding it's time until it could get free. He didn't know what Kane's situation was, with the Authority or anything else, and it made him wary. The ones you had to worry about most were the ones you couldn't get a read on. He knew the kind of people Hunter and Stephanie were. Knew the kind of person Randy Orton was; Orton had made his displeasure known long ago, so he knew a betrayal would happen sooner or later. But Kane? Kane was unpredictable and pretty much unreadable.

"Right. Sorry." He says. He was starting to get a headache. Great. He rubs at his head. "Gonna grab some food before I get on the road. Tell Hunter for me?"

He hated how he had to tell "Daddy Triple-H" (as some people mocked) so much. Although Hunter trusted him now, he still liked to keep an eye on his "assets". He knew how chafing and restricting it was, so he couldn't blame Orton for getting upset, mad at things that he thought Rollins was getting (which, to be fair, he did get more match opportunities) versus what he was getting. Most of that was not in fact true, but some of it was. He couldn't even be mad at Orton (though he was admittedly a bit irritated from the RKO.)

Kane didn't so much as blink an eye. He merely nods and heads in one direction while Seth heads in another. Some food and fresh air would-hopefully-do him some good. Maybe help him gather his thoughts more.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He finds the nearest available restaurant-the idea of fast food wasn't too pleasant right now-and quickly parks. It seemed nice enough. He was surprised it was still open, given how late it was. He heads inside, glad he had changed into some more comfortable clothing before he left the arena. Although he was fond of his "Snake Plisskin" wear, as some people had taken to call it, it got sweaty fairly quickly. He gets seated by a waitress and looks over the menu, seeing it but not seeing it; he had too much on his mind. It was hard to concentrate, thinking about the rock and hard place he was stuck between, thinking about Roman and his injury and wishing he could talk to him, to see how he was doing (Roman talked a big game on air, but there would definitely be things he would not say in public, only talking about it to his Brothers. Well, Brother now as Seth had no right to call himself Brother after what he had done) and thinking of Dean and how he longed to say he would be there for Dean; that he _could_ be there for Dean. It was almost all he thought about now.

Eventually he is able to concentrate enough to find something on the menu and gets an order in. He sighs, putting his head back against the head rest of the chair, closing his eyes.

"Oh. It's you." A voice speaks up.

His eyes pop open at the sound, eyes widening as he takes in who is standing in front of his table.

"Why are you-"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: Hee! Cliffhanger! Felt it a good thing to end it there. I hope people get some enjoyment from this. It's funny because I had absolutely 0% interest in trying a multi-chaptered Wrestling fic; I've seen how hard it is to write in this fandom. Although this fandom has managed some amazing fics, Wrestling is BY FAR the hardest fandom to write in. But I was watching Hell in a Cell 2014 as it was happening and Ambrose and Rollins gave me so many feels (the things Dean was saying, some of the sounds Seth made-not in THAT way, but full of some more emotion than just anger, just everything) that I started writing and this just started coming out lol. I have a whole general idea of things that will happen in this fic. Why Seth betrayed Dean and Roman, how he might try and fix it...you'll see. =P

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice


	2. Unexpected Planning

Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I_ trusted_ you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter Two -

Unexpected planning

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"What the hell are you _doing_ here?" he demands.

"Eating." comes the easy reply. "This is a restaurant, after all."

That dry, sarcastic humor. Yep, it was him alright.

CM Punk.

He hadn't been seen in WWE since January; Seth didn't know all the details, no one did save Punk, Hunter, and Vince (possibly Stephanie), but he knew that things had fallen out. Honestly he didn't expect to see Punk for a long time. Others would have said never, but Seth could tell the kind of person Punk was; he himself was like it in many respects. And once the man rested up a bit, mentally and physically, from the burn out, he'd be back. He'd be unable to help himself. With professional wrestlers, wrestling was art, and it was everything. To prove yourself, to be the best. You constantly pushed yourself to be the best. And if you didn't push yourself? If you didn't try? Then that just proved you were in the wrong business and good riddance.

He raises a brow. Punk gives a half smile. He looked more at ease and happy than he'd seen in awhile; he wondered when the last time was that _he_ looked that content. Probably the day before he turned on Dean and Roman. Then it had been easy; easy talking, laughing.

"I was eating with my wife," Punk continues. His wife being AJ Lee. "But figured it'd be better for her to leave first so we didn't get seen together. The press would be having a field day if they caught us together; they've done it enough as of late. Fucking annoying."

"I'm sure." Seth says carefully. "Well, despite circumstances and all that shit, nice seeing y-"

"And," Punk continues, as if Seth hadn't spoken. "figured I'd get some dessert before I leave."

There was something there, something that Punk wasn't actually saying but was trying to convey in his eyes, actions, and words. Seth found himself intrigued, despite himself. He waves a hand at his table.

"Well, I'm getting ready to eat myself; could use the company."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was quiet for a few minutes, as Seth starts digging into his meal and Punk waits on his brownie ice cream thing. He wasn't sure just Punk wanted exactly, but whatever it was, he wasn't _too _worried about it. He knew it'd be safe from the Authority at least, whatever was said; Punk hated the Authority as much as Seth did. Maybe he wanted a way to get a hold of his wife better when she was wrestling or something? Who the hell knew. Until Punk spoke up, he wouldn't know. So he waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Punk seemed perfectly content to just sit there and eat his dessert.

He doubted very much that the dessert was so good that the man couldn't talk. So there was something he was missing. But what? He looks at Punk closer and thinks about when he first saw him in the restaurant and the things that were said.

Wait.

He had thought that Punk would be fine to talk to as he also hated the Authority but didn't look at it the way he should have to begin with.

"I'm an idiot." Seth mutters, highly tempted to hit himself for thinking so stupidly.

He knew Punk hated the Authority but _Punk didn't know that __**he **__did. _

"Triple-H was so happy with me earlier. He complimented me and I kept thinking: man, I'd really like to punch your fucking face in."

Punk stops eating and looks up from his dessert, a gleam in his eye. He grins.

"Oh? Do tell."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"So that's about it."

"You're an idiot."

He gapes at Punk, taken aback. Punk always spoke his mind, he knew that, but it still threw him off to hear him speak so baldly.

"Excuse me?"

"They're supposed to be your "Brothers" right? So why not talk to them about it?"

"Because. Roman has the biggest heart in the world and would do anything for the people he cares about, but that is also a weakness; people would never believe he could turn. And Dean? He'd go straight for Triple-H's throat without thinking about the consequences. That's exactly why I did this; so that wouldn't happen."

"Well, you're an idiot, but an honest one at least."

"That why you didn't say anything at first?"

"Yeah. Had to be sure what I thought was true, not what was being shown on tv and PPV's were true. Had to see if you had honestly turned on them or-"

"If I was playing double agent, so to speak."

"Exactly. You fooled everyone really well; hell even your other team members wholeheartedly believe it. But I never believed it."

"You didn't? I mean, not to toot my own horn that much, but I've done a damn good job. So much so I sometimes even forget myself what my true purpose is."

"Yeah. And not to toot my _own _horn, but I could see through it. I've seen betrayal on both sides. I've seen a person you trust more than almost anyone and see how they crush you with that knowledge when they betray you. I've seen the real deal and there were just things, little things, that showed me that you didn't really mean what you were doing, not to Ambrose. Look at Hell in a Cell for instance-"

"You watched the PPV?" Seth asked, a bit amused, despite the situation.

"Just because I'm not there right now doesn't mean I haven't kept up with what's going on, despite what the dirtsheets say. And seeing you two fight got me more interested to watch, I'll admit. Back to the Cell, I have to admit feeling sorry for Ambrose. You really hurt him."

Seth does his best not to grimace but knows he didn't hold it all back. It felt like an open wound that wasn't given the time to heal, and with each strike, each word, the wound opened up even more. He knew what he had done to Dean, would never forget it even if he managed to somehow, someway, be forgiven (which he doubted) and knew that the pain was something he was willing to take, to protect him.

"No one knows that more than I do." he says bitterly. "But I did it, ironically enough, to protect him. Physical wounds heal; the rest..." He shakes his head.

He sighs, rubbing at his eyes. He felt weary in more ways than one. "I hate it. I'm stuck in a place I never wanted to be and to find a way out without getting him hurt feels almost impossible now."

"About that." Punk says. "Who says it's impossible? Don't let the Authority and their shit keep you from forgetting your goals. You want to save Ambrose, right?"

"Yeah. I do." _More than anything._

"Then I'll help you."

Seth raises a brow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Rollins. I hate the Authority as much as the next person-probably more so, considering the shit hand they tried to deal me again and again-so I'll help you. Think about it."

He did. And it was an angle he never would have been able to pursue before. Punk was on the outside right now; no one expected him to come back, and even the ones who _did_ think he would come back assumed it would be a very long time before he decided to return.

"I appreciate the offer, I do. But-"

"You wanna know what I can offer."

Seth had to hand it to Punk; the man was sharp.

"Well, I have a ace in the hole I've been using. Pretty effective so far too, if I do say so myself." He nods at something behind Seth.

He turns and stiffens at who he sees.

Joey Mercury.

"Isn't that right, Joey?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"What the hell is this?" Seth hisses. Had Punk sold him out? Was he working for the Authority? But, the man had looked so disgusted at mention of the Authority. He didn't seem like the kind of guy to do anything for the Authority; not like the man needed any money and if he wanted back in the company, he'd come back on his own.

"Not what you're thinking, obviously." Punk says, drily. "You wanted to know how I could help right? I did say I had an ace in the hole." Punk gestures for Joey to take a seat. He does, eyeing Seth as he does so. Seth himself was very on-edge. Although he felt like he could trust Punk, he was still wary.

"And he's your ace in the hole."

"Yeah. Think about it. They just see him as a lackey. Can you think of a time they pulled him aside and treated him like anything close to an equal or didn't ask for him if it wasn't to get something from him?" Seth shakes his head and Punk continues, leaning forward slightly as he talks, dessert forgotten. "Even you didn't take note of him. No one has and that's what I've been banking on. Tell him what you've been doing, Joey."

"Gathering information." starts Joey, quietly. He spoke quiet, but not in the same kind of referencial tone he had to the Authority. No, this was just speaking softly, as if making sure to not be heard. He didn't seem anything like the "Yes, sir. Yes, ma'am" lackey Seth had seen previously. He seemed more sure of himself. "No one really notices me unless they need something from me so I can get around a lot without being noticed."

"Information. Something to use against them." Seth says. The elephant in the room word here was _blackmail_.

"They deserve it, for the way they've done people."

"Oh, I'm not disagreeing. I've seen how they treat people they think aren't 'worthy', not 'deserving', " Seth continues. "I'm just surprised you've managed to find anything on them; they're pretty good at covering their tracks when it comes to things they don't want people to try. Believe me, I tried." In the beginning, back when he thought he might be able to take care of it quickly, back when he still thought he could be forgiven, that he might even _deserve_ to be forgiven.

"They're good. But I'm better," Joey says. He didn't speak with the egotism that Seth had come to expect from many people around him (Triple-H and company were good at the egotism, after all) but with a quiet certainty that spoke of a man who knew who he was, who knew what he could do and what he was capable of. It rather stunned him, as he didn't expect something like that from him. Then again, the man had been hiding what he was truly capable of all this time. "But the one thing I _can't _do, is to protect myself. Not from all of them."

"Which is where I would come in." Seth remarks.

"Exactly," Punk says, nodding. "He gets us the information we need, but he can't protect himself from all of them. He needs someone to keep watch, so to speak, while he does things, at least on occasion. And I can't do that for him, not now, not yet."

That phrasing. "Not yet? So you're planning to come back?"

"I've had enough down time. I'm starting to get restless; my wife keeps commenting on the fact too." Punk says with a laugh. "So I'd like to come back soon. The key is _when_ to do so. That's something we can plan on, along with other things. That is, if you're in. If you're not, no hard feelings. We won't turn you in to the Authority. It's up to you what you want to do."

And he believed him when he said no hard feelings. Still, it was an easy decision for him, especially after everything going on. He needed help. Maybe in the beginning he wouldn't have accepted it, but he was getting desperate now. He extends his hand.

"Where do I sign?" Seth grins.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

First there was an opportunity, then there was an obligation.

He couldn't say that he wasn't excited to face Ziggler for the Intercontinental Title. Ziggler was a great talent-and yes, he thought he was underutilized as well-and this was for something as prestigious as the Intercontinental Title. Hell people like Shawn Michaels and Chris Jericho had once held it, people whom he had great respect for in the business for all they had accomplished. He was excited. It was an opportunity, one he wasn't exactly glad of in _how_ he got it, but he certainly wouldn't let the chance slip him by. And a match like this, where he had to put all of his focus in, helped to keep _those_ thoughts at bay. The thoughts that consumed most of his waking thoughts. Thoughts which were only eased slightly by the fact that he was not alone in his fight against the Authority. Not alone...even if his company was not exactly the ones he wanted most. Still, they had done a lot to help him and were both putting a lot on the line by doing so.

The match with Ziggler was going well, he thought. A lot of nice back and forth, near-falls (though he would have preferred to have just won the first time around instead of near-falling with him.) It just had the unfortunate side effect of being halted by Randy Orton with an actual RKO out of nowhere. It still smarted. And then he watches Orton getting what he wants and that he has to wrestle him. Swell. As if he didn't just have a hard fought match. Now he had to wrestle again. And it didn't help that Orton was really, really pissed at him.

And honestly it wasn't really his fault; Orton was obviously ready to blow at any time. He had to get Orton before Orton got him. He knew he had to watch his back. Although he had his own goals to take care of, very important ones, he always knew that people could easily get in the way of that, intentional or not. Which is why he tried to stamp out Orton's anger problems early. It just happened to backfire a bit. Still, he wouldn't take shit lying down.

The match was pretty damn good. Honestly he was a bit surprised at how much chemistry they had with one another. People didn't always click at first when they first wrestled, or even awhile after. He had seen plenty of people who just never really clicked well over all (as in the case of Cena and Orton) or took awhile to click but became good once they did. But he and Orton gelled well from the get go.

He really wasn't as mad at Orton as he let on. Not now anyway; most of his anger had left in the curb stomp he had did to Orton in the cage on Raw. But now he had to act like it still bothered him as much; his persona demanded it. He couldn't let the Authority, or any one associated with them, that he had gone soft, that he was siding with Orton against them. Not yet. Possibly never. That all depended on later things. Right now he had to fight Orton, had to hurt him, had to act like the man pissed him off (and admittedly he did, by RKO-ing him after the match and the like) and to curb stomp him into the steel steps with-no pun intended-authority.

The pretend anger, the real anger, all of it, helped to keep the nasty thoughts in his mind at bay. Like the fact of how Dean looked so amused in his dealings with Bray Wyatt; that the man had shifted his focus away from Seth and onto _someone else._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: Ooh! Is that a note of jealousy I detect, Seth? Yes. Yes it is. XD

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice


	3. Regret

Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I_ trusted_ you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter Three - Regret

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It had to be him. Of course it did. Of the list of people he didn't want to see for a long time, he was second on the list; second only to Dean Ambrose. Damnit, why did Roman have to be here? Wasn't he supposed to be resting up from surgery? It was too soon; plans with Punk (and by extension Mercury) had just been formulated. There was no way he could talk to Roman about what was truly going on. Not now. Not when there wasn't enough information to _make_ sure the Authority wouldn't go after Dean at all. He had to keep protecting them. He would be their Shield against the things battering at them. Even if they didn't realize it, even if they continued to hate him. It was the least he could do for them for giving him the things they had.

Things he had never expected to experience in his life.

Roman stops in his tracks, from where he had been going into his hotel room. They eye each other for a long moment. He could see the wheels moving in Roman's head. People took Roman's moniker as the "powerhouse" too seriously sometimes. He was much more than just a powerhouse. If that had been the case, he and Dean would never have teamed with him to begin with. He was smart. He thought about things. He was calculating. And yes, he could also explode with power. He also had the biggest heart out of anyone he had ever had the pleasure to meet.

It hurt to look at him. A reminder of the life, the family he had no right to any longer. Even if for their own sake.

"I just went through the ringer with Orton." he finally mutters. "I seriously doubt taking on an injured guy would make me look good or do me any favors." He starts to walk past Roman, trying to keep from swallowing hard. He couldn't let anything on. Although he had done a pretty damn good job these past few months, it was getting increasingly harder to control himself. It was a wonder that Dean had only thought him angry during their Hell in a Cell match. Dean was surprisingly sharp and had a way about reading people. He supposed neither of them had been thinking their best during that match. It hurt them both; though of course Dean didn't know that.

He thinks he's in the clear, until he gets towards the end of the hallway where the elevators stood.

"Hurt or not, I could still punch a hole through your head, Seth." He _does_ gulp against a lump in his throat this time, thankful that he was turned around enough that Roman couldn't see it. It hurt to hear Roman talk that way. That hurt more than the threat by far. He wondered if Roman knew that; the man had a way about him sometimes. His quietness, that reflection. He wondered if Roman ever saw through him more than he liked. Probably, knowing his luck.

He turns slightly, plastering on the smirk that he knew everyone hated. It was an effective tool on its own to keep people at bay. "Yeah? Well, I think you should be wondering less about what the inside of my skull looks like and wondering how to keep a better eye on your one remaining Brother."

Roman visibly flinches and he has to clench his fist not to affect a similar look. It was times like these that he hated himself.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He feels the anger in his bones, simmering, ready to burst forth from the surface. Seth always knew the best way to cut into people with his words, as much as what he did in the ring. He just had never expected to be on the receiving end of it. When he spoke the word Brother it meant more than just a mere ally. It meant a true Brother. Someone whom he would always protect, watch over and one whom he knew he could expect the same. They had all meant that. They had. He refused to believe differently, even as the chair slammed into his back with the sound of betrayal. He knew Dean thought differently.

No, he knew Dean _wanted_ to believe differently. He knew how hard it was for Dean, even more so than him. He knew what this betrayal meant to him and it made him want to punch that metaphorical punch to Seth every time he saw him, heard him speak, or when he saw how it affected Dean. He feels anger.

Feels it right until he opens the door and sees Dean standing there in front of it. The look of his face said everything to him, said he heard every word Seth say (especially the worst ones.) The look in his Brother's eyes breaks his heart and he closes the door behind him and wraps up Dean in a hard as hug as he can manage in his condition.

Dean stiffens for a few moments before slowly relaxing into Roman's embrace. Dean's hands are claws against his back and he doesn't mind in the slightest. Let Dean get whatever he can to try and deal, to try and move through this. He would take a thousand chair shots, or daggers in the back to protect him. He could protect his body easily enough, but he was afraid he would never be enough to completely heal his heart.

"He," Dean starts. Then stops. And starts again. And stops. He starts and stops speaking a few times. Roman rubs circles in his back.

"I know." Roman says softly. "I know."

He closes his eyes and his heart breaks when Dean says: "I wanna hate him, Ro. I wanna hate him so bad. But I can't. I wanna hate him so bad for what he did."

"I know," Roman repeats, continuing to rub his back. "I do too. You're not alone, Dean. _You're not_."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He slams the door of his hotel room, the confrontation with Roman bringing up more emotions to the surface than he liked. He strips off his boots, his socks, not caring where they land. Eventually he ends up in one of the chairs in the room, hands pulling at his hair.

"Fuck." He breathes. "_Fuck_. Goddamnit, what the hell am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?"

His head shoots up as he hears the door open, tensing at who it might be. There were few people who got copies to his hotel room, but he really didn't want to see any of them now. He only relaxes slightly when he sees it's Joey Mercury. He didn't want to see anyone right now, but at least he was the least of all evils.

"Uh, hey," Joey says. He just kind of stands somewhere near Seth, hands in pocket as he was trying not to look awkward. Although he was failing miserably. "Uh, just wanted to let you know that Triple-H said that wants you to fly with them in first class in the morning. Said that although he was unhappy with you and Randy fighting, that he was still proud of you."

Joey flinches as a shoe flies near him.

"I don't give a fuck what that man likes or doesn't like." Seth hisses. "Or what he wants."

"I know that," Joey says quietly. "But for the moment you have to try and pretend to; Ambrose and Reigns are still counting on you, right?"

And that helps him start to relax. He had to stay focused on the big picture and not the one right now. The big end game was making sure that the Authority couldn't use anything against Dean, and that they would never be able to find anything on Roman. Roman was a good guy, one of the best Seth knew, but he also knew that people like the Authority had a way of finding the smallest thing about a person and twisting it and using it against them in the worst way possible. He was doing this for them. He just had to keep reminding himself that.

He rubs at his eyes, feeling weariness overtake him. "You're right. And...I'm sorry. What you and Punk are doing, even if it isn't strictly for me and my Brothers. Still-"

Joey shakes his head, seeming a bit more at ease now. "No thanks needed. A person would have to be blind to see what you three mean to one another."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

First class was generally a nice thing; even when the trip was long, the little extras helped make it go along a little quicker and more smoothly. Generally. When having to sit and listen to Triple-H go on and on about one thing than another was enough to make his head hurt. But still, he smiled, nodded, and commented where he felt it necessary. They never seemed to suspect a thing, which was good for him. He had no idea what Triple-H had been saying for the past two hours, but he seemed happy enough with the attention Seth was giving.

"Ahh, but I've talked your head off enough. Got a treat for you." Triple-H says, grinning. Seth heart sinks. Triple-H's "treats" were generally things that ended badly for his former Brothers in arms. He pulls out a CD case from one of his jacket pockets and takes out a disc, opening up the DVD player in the back of the seat in front of him and placing it inside. "Had it made awhile back; surprised I forgot to show it to you until now."

The DVD starts playing and he stares at it.

"Nice, right? Had some of the tech guys make me a copy awhile back. Figured you'd get a kick out of it. The look on their faces as you hit them!" Triple-H laughs.

The DVD is mercifully over in minutes and he heads up to the bathroom. The door slams shut behind him and he retches.

Memories of the past were mixing with Triple-H's stupid fucking laugh of the now and it was not a pleasant combination.

_He pokes his back. "Surprised you don't have like a zillion tattoos."_

_Dean turns his head from where he's sitting in his chair. Sitting in it backwards because he was Dean Ambrose and he didn't give a shit. "The hell is that supposed to mean?"_

_He rolls his eyes at Dean's tone. Dean liked to talk a lot of shit, and he knew him well, so he didn't take offense to the tone; it's just how Dean rolled sometimes._

_"Well you were like a Hellion on wheels as a kid, from what you were saying. Surprised you didn't run out and get some tattoos. Scare some neighborhood grannies."_

_Dean grins. He resutely ignores the warm glow in the pit of his stomach at seeing it. He had been getting pretty good at that lately._

_"Yeah? You're right. Probably some missed opportunities. Though I __**did**__grab an old lady's wig once when I was trying to make a quick getaway."_

_He snorts and he hears Roman give a chuckle. _

_"What were you running from __**that**__ time?" Roman asked, amusement in his tone, looking away from whatever was on the tv to look at them._

_"Hey, you make it sound like I run from shit all the time. I take offense to that, Roman! I make people run from __**me**__!" Dean says, giving an exaggerated pout._

_He laughs openly this time, unable to help himself, not noticing the look Dean gives at he looks over at him._

_"Okay, okay." Roman says, with a grin. "You're right. You __**never**__ do that sort of shit. My bad. So what happened in this __**one and only**__ special event?"_

_"Don't tell me it was the cop you stole that shitty tuna fish sandwich from."_

_"Nah." Dean says, relaxing a bit, sliding a bit more in his chair. "Nah, it wasn't him; it was his Deputy-"_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He watched; he couldn't help himself. The only thing that kept it from sending suspicion was the fact that he could easily say it was to watch the competition, to scout them out. Which was technically true, in most aspects. In all but one. To everyone looking it would easily seem like he was just watching, scouting things, but of course when it came to Dean Ambrose, things were never that simple. For Seth, he couldn't help himself. With Dean, he had never been able to. From the first time they locked up in FCW, Dean Ambrose had been an enigma and a curiosity that he had found himself unable to shake, despite himself.

Back then he would have laughed his head off, or possibly beat you up, if you would have said that a few years from then that he would become so close to him as he did. That he would get close to two men who would become closer to him than any blood relations he had. That he would gain Brothers. That betraying them tore something so deeply inside himself he didn't know if it'd ever heal. But it happened. And although he hated himself for hurting them, he'd also never trade in his time with them for anything.

So he watched.

His eyes move over the screen as he watches Christian talk on and Dean interrupting. That was Dean in a nutshell; full of energy and impatient. And then it was fine. It was okay. It hurt looking at him, hearing him talk, but that was something he was used to. So it was okay. Let him rant and speak, let him get that ever burning energy out. That was okay. It was okay. And then _he _shows up.

And he seethes.

He knew that the mindgames of Bray Wyatt had just started, at Hell in a Cell. He knew that the man would be stalking Dean, playing headgames with him, trying to delve into the fracture psyche of the man known as Dean Ambrose. He knew all of these. He could even guess to how Dean would react to them. But he what he wasn't expecting was what Bray says.

And he sees red.

That miserable _bastard._ How _dare_ he speak about something that personal? How dare he throw it in Dean's face? He knew from Dean's own words, and more importantly from what he _didn't___say, in the kind of man his father had been. And how it had affected him, what it had done to him. It wasn't the only factor in his life that had hurt him, but it had been one of them. And for Bray Wyatt to just say it like he did. Throwing it out there for everyone to hear...

Just let him come near Bray Wyatt or for Bray Wyatt to come near him. He'd make the man fucking _pay_. He'd find a way to do it. Even if he had to do it alone, he'd do it in a heartbeat for the man having the audacity to do Dean like that. Even he, in having to play the card of deception, never, _ever_, stooped that low. He came close a couple times, but had managed to keep those things from coming out, from telling Triple-H that he had this, let him say what he wanted; he didn't need to stoop to _that_ level when he could go about things a different, better way. Of course, Triple-H didn't know that he didn't say any of those things because the truth was he didn't want to. He couldn't. He had already hurt Dean enough and he wanted to hurt him as small as possible during the whole experience.

He clenches the remote in his hand tightly, hating what he's seeing, but unable to look away. The smoke and mirrors bullshit Wyatt pulled was nothing. That would never be something that would get to Dean. But speaking about his past, about stuff like his horrible father...that was something that could pierce his armor, more surely than any blow from a fist or a leg could.

The segment finally, mercifully, ends and throws the remote in disgust. He places his head in his hands, breathing in and out slowly, trying to regain some sort of calm while processing all he had just saw and heard. Even as completely angry as he was, he had to find some sense of well, sense. He couldn't let his anger overtake him in this. Not when Dean was involved. In order to protect him, he had to wall off much of himself, to see the bigger picture, to see that what he was doing was for the best. He had to be calm. He had to.

After a few moments of trying to cool off, he pulls out his phone, staring at it. There were a couple numbers in his phone that he had never deleted, though he expected the people who had his number had since deleted it. He longed to call either one of them. They had been each others lifelines; there when one was down or needed a pick me up. He didn't have that now. So he calls someone else instead.

"Yeah. It's me. We need to talk."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: Ooh, I wonder who he's talking about! ...wait, what do you mean I already know?!

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice


	4. Discoveries

Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I_ trusted_ you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter Four - Discoveries

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"You know," he begins, sitting down at the table. "You're not who I expected to be talking to right now."

"Oh, really? You don't say."

"I can hear the sarcasm from here."

"He's busy with some stuff right now, which is why he wanted me to babysi-excuse me, "talk" to you, until he showed up."

"You got a problem with me or something? You _do _know pretty much everything people see of me nowadays is a lie, right?." He says, stretching a bit. He felt a bit stiff.

AJ merely smiles at him. "No!" she exclaims, smile widening. "No problem! I was just yanking your chain to see how you'd react."

"And did I pass?" he asks, a bit of sarcasm flooding his voice now.

"Yep! Had to make sure you were someone worth Punk putting this much effort into helping. He's my husband and I love him." She stops smiling, looking more serious than Seth had ever seen her. "And I'll do whatever it takes to protect him and keep him safe. Like what you're doing for Ambrose."

That kind of startles Seth a bit. Not the protecting bit. He got that easily. He understood both her need to protect her husband as well as his need to protect Dean. But he never expected her to _connect_ the two in that way. Compare his willingness to protect Dean to her protecting her _husband_. He feels heat fill his face unexpectedly and bites off a curse at it.

He glares as she giggles at him. "What?" he mutters.

"Oh, nothing." she says in a sing-song voice. "Notice you didn't deny what I said at all."

"Why would I deny it?"

Now she is the one who looks startled.

"You mean, you actually-" She doesn't get to finish her sentence as someone comes over to their table.

They look up to see Punk standing there.

"Hey. So what'd I miss?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Punk slides into a seat next to AJ nonchalantly, looking calm. Seth wondered just what Punk had been up to, for AJ to be talking to him in his stead until he returned. More business with Mercury, maybe?

"Not much," Seth says, eyeing Punk. There was something that was going on, but he didn't know what. He didn't like not knowing. Knowledge was power, especially in this situation where knowledge was key to salvaging the situation he had gotten himself into, the key to protecting that which he cared about most. "Just chit-chatting until you got here. Something important?"

"Not much," Punk says nonchalantly. "Just finished interrogating Jamie Noble."

"Excuse me?"

"Mercury found him nosing around where he was. Wanted to see what he knew."

"You didn't beat him for information, did you?" Seth asks drily.

"Ha ha. We're not the mob. I just asked. He was more than willing to spill anyway."

"Plus if he beat him up, then Noble would definitely blurt out who did the deed to him." AJ points out. "In this way, at least, we can minimize the damage as much as possible."

Huh. She was a smart one too. He could see why people liked her.

"And what did he spill?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself." Punk turns his head and gestures with his hand.

Mercury comes into their field of vision. "He's at my hotel room. He's got nothing to hide."

And he did.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I didn't mean anything by it," Noble says, voice filled with that southern twang of his. "I just wanted to see what he was doing and if I could give him a hand. The Authority..." He stops, looking hesitant. After a look at Mercury, and Punk, who nod, he continues. "They're not the easiest to deal with. And they're not nice people either. Joey's always been nice to me. Been nice and _meant_ it, you know? He's not like them, the way they've treated me..." A hint of anger brushes his tone. "He's the only one who's really cared. Then I saw what he was doing..."

"And realized who he was doing it for."

"Yeah." Noble says, glancing at Seth then away from him. "I had no idea. But!" He looks at Seth with a little more vigor this time. "I won't say anything. I promise. I'm not like them. I'm not. If Joey is helping you then I will too!"

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh really? And how can I trust you? You've been hanging around the Authority for who knows how lo-"

"So has Joey!" Noble exclaims. "Look, I get if you don't really trust me yet. But let me prove it to you! I-I can keep an eye out for Joey. You have a lot of stuff you have to take care of. And it wouldn't look funny if I hung around him, because I do that anyway. I'm not as good with the paper stuff as he is, but I can at least watch his back."

"I trust him." Mercury says quietly. Seth glances at him. "You've only seen some of the things that the Authority does. We've seen more; we've been around them longer. They're not good people and not good to Jamie. He can be trusted."

Seth slowly nods. He had to get used to having help; he knew that's part of what his problem, his hesitation, was. He was so used to trying to do it on his own that it made it difficult to accept help, even when he obviously could use it.

"Okay." He says. "Okay. You've got people vouching for you, so okay. And...I could use the help. I'd appreciate it."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Noble being on their side was turning out rather invaluable, funnily enough. He was eyes and ears for him and Mercury both, which gave valuable heads-up when Mercury needed to stop his searching or the like. He could also keep the Authority busy and was the best at placating the Authority, so he was a valuable asset in that alone. He also seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing when someone was coming near and how to keep their attention on him; which was very handy as it gave Mercury time to be out of whereever he had been nosing around. He didn't realize just how much they complimented each other as partners-in-crime. They seemed to be good friends too, which made him ache to look at sometimes; it reminded him of the times of the past with Dean and Roman and it made the pain all the more deeper.

They were also now doing their best to talk to him and become friends. They were nice, and surprisingly funny, and the pain sliced all the deeper as a result. But...still, talking with them, and with Punk? It brought out the first genuine smile in him in a long, long time.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It always grated on his nerves to have to stand around with the Authority as often as he did. They wanted to show a united image to the fans and to the wrestlers. If they knew just how little quite a few of them now thought of them, they'd have been surprised. He drowned as much of what they were talking about, nodding and smirking here and there to show that he was listening and agreeing. Still, as much as he was not a fan of John Cena, he hated the Authority that much more, so if Cena could get a big guy like Ryback on his Team, more power to him.

Oh, wait. Ryback attacks Cena. Guess that wasn't in the cards. Oh well.

Still, he had a match to focus on. Even if it was with someone like Swagger, he couldn't give anything less; that's when mistakes were made. And unwilling lapdog of the Authority or not, he was still a wrestler and still had a wrestlers pride.

The match didn't go exactly as he wanted, but it was serviceable. And it felt nice to have people having his back, even briefly, even if they weren't exactly the strongest or the ones he _truly_ wanted, it still felt nice to have that feeling of _not alone_, even if it was only briefly.

But wrestling a match wasn't his only purpose out there. He knew quite clearly from Triple-H and Stephanie what they wanted; they wanted Swagger out of commission. They were scared, even if they didn't let on much, of Cena and what team he might gather up. He had been a thorn in their side for a long time and the caveat that Vince had made that they would lose their position as the Authority was making them even more paranoid. As much as he longed for them to not be in a position of power, he still had to play it carefully. Them being without the power of the Authority didn't guarantee safety for Dean; that would not stop them from hitting him where it hurt worst and doing everything in their power to devastate him and deal a crippling blow to him. And they could easily do that, so he had to play things even more carefully during this time. If they got tired of him, they could lash out at him, lash out at people who he was not even supposed to have contact with anymore. So, for now, he still did as they told of him. It was for the best.

Though not the best for Swagger, who got a couple of Curb Stomp's for his trouble.

Still, it was nice to win and he finds himself celebrating with Mercury and Noble, hugging them both. The hugging reminding him painfully of the hugs he'd share with Dean and Roman after a match, a sign of their Brotherhood to one another. He did his best to tune out the "You sold out" chants from the fans. He couldn't blame them.

While he may have made a deal with the Devil, he hadn't sold out, despite appearances. Maybe one day he'd be able to tell Roman and Dean that.

And maybe one day they'd believe him.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He gets a locker room to himself, for once, and uses the opportunity to keep track of the show while he's resting up. His heart drops into his stomach when he sees Dean on the television, in the backstage area that was not that far from where he was now, speaking. He looked good, if angry and tense. He knew Dean very well and he had learned over his time around him to pick up a lot on what Dean was feeling or not letting on; often Dean wouldn't say what was wrong with him, so he and Roman had had to learn to pick up on his body language, his ticks, things like that.

A rap-sheet a mile long in the business, Dean? He certainly did. He aches at hearing Dean talk that way about himself, calling himself a sinner, saying how he had done dirty, dirty, things to people. He heard Dean say he wouldn't apologize for it, and while Seth knew that he wouldn't have apologized for everything, he certainly would have for some things. Sinner. He knew Dean sometimes had self-loathing that was a mile deep and five miles wide. And without Seth by his side, without Roman there...the darkness only festered without ever truly healing.

"You're wrong about a few things, Dean." he finds himself murmuring. "I'll never let you self-destruct no matter how much you think you want it. And I'll pull you out of Hell as many times as it takes."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He felt for Mercury and Noble out there, having to deal with Sheamus, but he had his own things to take care of. Like getting ready to talk to Ryback. This sure would be "fun". He'd have to remind himself extra hard that when he finally got out of the Authority's grasp to give Triple-H a huge fucking punch to his huge fucking nose. And then about fifty more times for good measure. And a Curb Stomp or twelve.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He knew Ryback didn't like him, and that was fine. They had had their differences from awhile ago and that probably wouldn't change any time soon. After their beef from earlier, he no longer truly disliked the man, but he wasn't a fan of his either. But he had to talk to him, whether he really wanted to or not. The Authority wanted to try and keep Ryback as happy as possible. Of course it was turning out the complete opposite way, from what Seth could tell, but he wasn't going to tell them that. And by the way that Kane had talked, he'd be able to talk in the same kind of tone without rousing too much suspicion; so he could essentially say that it would not be a good idea to join the Authority without actually saying so. And no one would be any the wiser. Sometimes he caught a break every once and awhile and it was nice.

"Welcome aboard."

"_WWE _is on the line; it doesn't get any bigger than this!"

"I agree with you! You don't need to take orders from _Kane_; you take them from _me_!"

Yeah, sometimes it was fun to fuck around with people, especially if it got a result he wanted.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Having to sit there and listen to Bray Wyatt talk instead of going and punching his face in? Yeah that was killing him. Especially hearing Wyatt talk more about Dean, talk more about Dean's father like he knew the situation, like he knew _him_.

Talk of Gods and monsters meant jack shit to people like Dean Ambrose. Words like those would never put fear into Dean's heart. No, the real fear was of man and what man could do; _that_ was what could pierce Dean's nearly impenetrable flesh. Words sliced through like daggers. And chair shots to the back ripped hearts in two.

And if the metaphorical Devil named Bray Wyatt tried to pull down Dean into the depths of Hell, he'd Curb Stomp Wyatt so far into Hell that he'd never come out. He'd make sure of it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Mercury and Noble were pulling triple duty tonight. Well quadruple duty, actually, if you counted their help with the Mission (as he was calling it.)

He had to try to play peacemaker between Kane and Ryback but that definitely didn't work. Ryback was certainly a strong guy. So was Big Show, but any man could get taken down and he sent him down with a good shin kick. Still, they also got back up. And getting taken out by Ryback was no fun. He was sure to have a few bruises from it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Talking about things he had no business talking about or knowing. _Again_. If he had to watch much more of this, he'd say fuck it and kick Wyatt's ass anyway.

"Here I am; embrace me, Dean Ambrose. Let me fix you, Dean. Salvation is at hand. Let me fix you, Dean."

Fixating on Dean like that. Talking to him. Calling Dean a hero? Dean was many things, but he would have never called himself a hero. He didn't think highly enough of himself to think that or to say that.

"Follow me, for I will lead you into the light."

He didn't like to think about it. But right now Dean was alone. And as tough as he was, these psychological attacks were getting to him, even if only a bit. His anger could only hold out so long. _He _could only hold out so long while alone, with no one there to watch his back.

He grimaces. "Damnit."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He's up and out of his chair, with it clattering to the floor, before he realizes it, taking in what he just saw happen. It wasn't like it was a freak occurance. He had seen it many times since the chair shot to their backs said the Shield was over. He had seen his face in a grimace of pain. Had seen the anger, the frowns, the sadness, had seen the _pain_, both metaphorical and physical. He had seen him in pain. Had personally delivered it, both mental and physical to him himself.

But this.

Bray Wyatt hurting him, holding him close in a mockery of...of something.

_Touching Dean._

He finds himself running out of his room before he can help himself, all the while thinking _Dean, Dean, Dean_.

Where was he going? Just what the hell was he going to do? His mind was a cluster of emotions and thoughts he couldn't sift through, feet moving quickly over the concrete. Eventually he comes to a halt, stopping cold, a fission running through him as he sees Dean standing up carefully. Sees Dean turning. Sees Dean looking at _him_.

"You."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: Oh no, Seth! What are you doing?! ...oh wait, I know that too. XD Though honestly, I don't think _Seth _really knows what he's doing. But seeing Dean in pain? Yeah...well, we'll see how it goes from here! =P

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice


	5. A Moment

Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I_ trusted_ you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter Five - A moment

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

His mind was running a mile a minute and kept the same chanting of _Dean_, on repeat. He looked a bit hurt, and angry (very angry), _but he was okay_.

"So. Come to finish the job Wyatt started then?"

A hiss comes out of his mouth before he can stop himself. "Comparing me to that-" He stops himself, fist clenching. He had to be careful, he knew this, but it was hard keeping a cool head in seeing Dean so close, seeing Dean in that state. He couldn't say the things he longed to say, he couldn't move closer to Dean, couldn't make sure he was truly alright, not in the ways that mattered. And it was killing him.

He starts to turn. "I don't even know why I-"

"Stop." Dean's voice was quiet, commanding, and chilling.

He stops, despite himself, holding back a shiver at the tone.

"Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

"Your preoccupation with him doesn't seem so tiny." he finds himself saying without meaning to.

He hears hurried footsteps and barely turns around in time to find Dean pushing him up against the nearest wall, letting out a whoosh as air escapes him in a rush at the sudden movement. The sudden proximity of Dean leaves him feeling more breathless than the push against the wall causes him.

"And what business is it of yours what it is?" Dean demands, one hand braced on the wall. Despite being injured just moments before, he still seemed so full of energy and bluster.

"It isn't." he says. He plasters on the smirk he so detested, the smirk he knew everyone, including Dean, hated. "I thought I made that clear when I hit you and Roman in the ba-"

He flinches as Dean's other hand slams onto the wall hard on his other side.

"Shut up. Shut up right now if you know what's good for you."

"Looking for another fight? Let me tie one hand behind my back. I'll make it a "fair" fight." he says, smirk widening.

"You-!"

His eyes widen Dean starts to move down to him. He pushes at him as hard as he can, feeling a bit of worry as Dean falls back onto the ground, but unable to stop himself. He had-it couldn't have-

He looks at Dean as Dean looks up at him. The moment seems to stretch for a long time, then no time at all. He knows what's he's doing, but he does it anyway. He runs away.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Seth!"

"_Seth_!"

"Get back here, Seth! I'm not finished with you! This will never be finished! _Never_! Do you hear me?!"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Get back here!"

"Get..."

A fist hits the ground, before he puts his head in his hands. He knew what he had been about to do.

_God__**damnit**__, Seth, why did you look at me like that? _

Why did he look so hurt, hurt, not angry, _hurt_, at what Dean was about to do?

_Why_?

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He all but flies into his locker room, slamming the door shut, sliding down against it. He puts his head in his hands.

He had been about to. He really had. In all the times he had wondered, had denied, had hoped, but like that? Like this?

He slams his fist on the ground.

"_Damnit!"_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He had a few days to gather himself, but only a few. It had barely been enough to piece his mask of indifference back together. Those brief, few moments with Dean had shattered his carefully constructed mask of months in mere seconds. He had nearly lost everything there because...because...why had Dean tried?

He looks up as he hears a knock at his locker room door.

It was Mercury.

They walk down the way to the entrance, the rest of the Authority already ahead and waiting to head out. Triple-H turns and smirks. The bastard. He didn't have to say or do anything and he was still the biggest bastard in the world.

"You ready, Rollins?"

No, but... "As ready as ever."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He had to pump himself up as we stood out there with him, but he did it, as he always did. Soon, very soon, things would be decided. Either the Authority would stay in power, or they would get overtaken by the members of the "asylum" as it were. It was a key moment and he was getting anxious on its result, as neither outcome guaranteed him safety, or success. He had to be on his toes even more so now, had to play things as closely to the chest as possible, had to be careful with every word, every action. It was a key moment...and who knew how it would turn out in the end.

So now he had to stand here with them, had to stand and pretend to the best of his ability (which was pretty good, if he said so himself) and pretend like he cared about them. He couldn't say he didn't care how they saw things; while he may have hated them all with every fiber of himself, he certainly cared on how they saw things, saw _him_. He was in such a precarious position that the slightest thing could blow over and burn him. If they lost... if they lost and decided to take their anger out on those around them? It could spell the end for everything he had ever cared about in his life.

And he'd do anything, everything, to make sure that didn't happen. Even make deals with Devils.

In the very least, he liked the fact that he could look deep in thought out there as they spoke and it not look odd; after all, to them, it would be just one of their "members" worrying about them, the situation, trying to think about what to do about it. He could think of what he wanted to do without giving off suspicion and he loved when he gained small advantages like this.

He could think about how Jamie Noble had been a surprisingly effective asset. How Joey Mercury had been invaluable with his information gathering and paper skills (he knew how to read through the Authority's bullshit and look for the truth hidden in plain sight.) How CM Punk had been someone who he had never gotten on with previously, but was becoming something like a friend. Definitely an ally. One who wanted to see the Authority get everything they deserve and then some. Someone who knew that even if the Authority lost at Survivor Series, that things would not be over that easily, that more still needed to be done. And he was doing things on his end, other than overseeing things, to help in the fight.

The three men were not Dean and Roman and they never would be. Even if they became better friends than they were now, nothing could ever replace the places within himself that represented Dean and Roman. They were his Brothers, and he would always see them so, even if they never forgave him. Even if they continued to hate him. If they never understood just what he had been doing for them? He'd accept that, as long as they remained safe. Even if...

One match...

A pretty good group to fight against another.

And even if he was loathing Triple-H's touch on his shoulder, he could still agree with him on one thing. The future. And despite his position now, despite putting Dean and Roman's safety above everything else, he hadn't forgotten about his dreams; the dreams he had spoken so openly about to them, knowing that they'd understand. Knowing they understood because they too had the same passion.

The future...

He'd do everything in his power to make sure that all three of them made it to the top; he'd walk across as many hot coals as it took to do so.

And even though he hated the Authority, he could agree on their dislike of John Cena. That, he understood. He who stood in the way of everyone else. He who held onto the spot of the Top for so long without anyone else allowed to stand on that platform for long. He had ambition and John Cena was on the road to that. If he could protect his Brothers _and_ take out the Top guy? Then that was all the better.

He also wasn't a fan of Stephanie, but at least she didn't try to touch him.

Henry? Seth wasn't stupid; a guy like Mark Henry wasn't someone to get on the bad side of, not on his own. Best to pat his back and make nice with him. Better to have the guy on his side for as long as possible.

Kane? Again, Kane was an enigma. You think he'd be a big meat head along with other guys of his stature, but he wasn't. He had no idea where Kane truly stood and that was the most dangerous thing.

Rusev? Another said meathead, controlled like a puppet by Lana. He was strong, but he knew that he could outsmart him and get him in the end, if need be.

Luke Harper? Who knew about him. He was crazy. An enigma in some ways too. Kept saying he was a Team Player, but Seth knew he couldn't trust him. Who knew if this was some weird ploy by Wyatt to mess with the Authority. Or hell, even mess with Seth in some way, mess with his head. He hated the ones who he couldn't get a good read on. They were the ones you truly needed to worry about, more than the guys who held a lot of strength in their hands.

Ryback wasn't on Team Authority's side. _Or _Cena's for that matter. Regardless, Seth knew there was a bit more to him than met the eye. He wasn't just a meathead; there was some intelligence in there that often got overlooked because of his size and wrestling style. Perhaps the Authority saw that intelligence, perhaps not. More than likely they just saw him as another strong guy to counter Cena's strength.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Harper? He didn't trust him, but that just made it all the more apparent that it'd be better to stay out there and watch him closely. He could watch his actions and see how he did things. Keep your friends close and enemies closer was how the phrase went, didn't it?

He wasn't a bad talent, he had to say. Not bad at all. Pretty good, actually, considering his size. The man often did things that people didn't expect from someone as big as he was. And it was a good match, him and Ziggler, so it wasn't too hard to express excitement at his win; the match was a good one and he enjoyed it.

He wasn't trusting him yet, but still...he'd keep an eye on him. Shake his hand, all of that.

He didn't hate Ziggler, but it'd look weak to the Authority if he didn't. They wanted no one left to help Cena...

One good curb stomp.

...he'd try and apologize later.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He watched. He couldn't help himself. Bray Wyatt was dangerous, but damn if he wasn't charismatic. That charisma still wouldn't stop him from ripping the man limb from limb for hurting Dean, touching him physically, wounding him mentally. Some scars didn't heal. Some scars appeared. And some scars just festered, getting worse and worse without help. Even if one didn't show it.

He lets out a laugh without meaning to, glad no one else was in his locker room at the moment. Some scars didn't heal, but Dean Ambrose was also a fighter. And he'd claw and scratch his way up over and over again. Seth had seen that a long time ago, back when they had been adversaries in FCW and not yet Brothers. The scarring might get to him in time, without anyone to help, but damn if he wasn't going to make it the most drag out, hair pulling, scratching, soul wrenching, pull you down to Hell with me, ride he could make it for everyone involved.

And even as hurt as he was by his last interaction with Dean, he could still admire him, could still laugh at the fact of his attitude, laugh in reminiscence at how his backstage talk was like how he, Roman, and Seth used to do it, even if he...

And he laughs again at Dean's tactic.

"Video recording, I'm not even here right now, because I recorded this message on my buddy's cell phone earlier today! And I'm out here in the arena right now, Bray! _Run_."

Ha. He'd have to find a way to...but he couldn't.

But he couldn't help himself.

He gets out his phone and texts a message quickly. He knew he'd receive it. He knew he'd either read it or not read it. He wouldn't answer. But...no, he'd read it.

_SR to RR: Last time you let him borrow your phone, it ended up at the bottom of a river. You think you'd know better by now._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He was too amused by what Dean did earlier to be upset at having to go out there with the Authority again. He knew it'd be a brawl and that was okay.

Cesaro?...yeah he knew he wouldn't join Cena. Regardless if Cesaro actually liked the Authority or not, he probably loathed Cena much more than they, so he wouldn't go on his side, so Seth knew his coming out hadn't been for Cena.

Rowan? Well, that certainly was a surprise. Mind you Rowan was also batshit crazy, so him joining Cena, although odd, was not actually that odd at all. Considering Rowan's brute nature and not being as smart as the rest of Cena's team, he knew that them getting Rowan under their thumb wouldn't be too difficult.

As for the rest? Only time would tell.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"A survival kit, Dean? Really?" he murmurs, shaking his head in amusement.

Mind you, he wasn't exactly sure if Dean was telling the truth about how he got brass knuckles; more than likely he filched it off someone who pissed him off. Wouldn't have been the first time.

"You about ready, Rollins?"

He nearly flinches at hearing Kane's voice, hoping the man hadn't overheard him or saw anything he didn't need to. He turns and looks at the older man. The larger man didn't seem phased in the slightest so it seemed like he didn't notice anything. He walks over to Kane, patting him on the arm, smirking.

"Do I look like I'm not ready?"

He is nearly past the man before the man speaks.

"No...no you look like you have your mission in mind. Like you have for a long time now."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: Uh oh, what does that mean, Kane?! ...wait, I know what it means?! XD

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice


	6. Survivor Series and the Fallout

Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I_ trusted_ you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter Six - Survivor Series and the Fallout

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_"You ever wonder how things will be later?"_

_"Later? Like what, after the match? Hungry, probably-"_

_"Not immediately, idiot. I mean __**later**__. Months from now. Where we'll be."_

_"Who the fuck you calling an idiot, Seth? I'll teach that mouth of yours to-"_

_"Enough." Roman states. "Later, Seth? I...can't say I don't think about it sometimes. I'm sure we all do. Even Mr. Impatient over here-"_

_"Hey! What's with the ganging up on me!?"_

_"I'm sure," Roman continues, ignoring Dean's ranting. Sometimes it was for the best to do so. "that we all think of that. How do we go from here? How do we get even higher on the ladder?"_

_"Yeah, I'm...I dunno. I keep having these thoughts and I don't really like where they lead. I hate having doubts."_

_"Doubts about what?" Roman asks._

_"I know we're, all three of us, destined for great things. We have the ring talent, the promo skills, everything and anything needed to be __**the**__ top guys. But I sometimes wonder if we'll ever be allowed to get to that platform."_

_"You gotta stop worrying so much about the maybe's, Seth," This was Dean speaking now. "It doesn't matter the maybe's, the nobodies, the everything; if people try to get in the way of our dream we'll just mow them down like we do with everyone else. We're unstoppable."_

_"That's right," Roman agrees quietly. "There's no one who can stand in our way when we put our minds to something. Come this time next Survivor Series, we'll have more gold around us than we'll know what to do with."_

_"Yeah...yeah. You're right." Seth says. "Together we can do anything."_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It seemed both a long time ago and just days before that he stood together with Roman and with Dean in their shared locker room (none of the other guys in the other locker rooms wanted them near theirs and that was fine with them as they didn't want to be around those guys either) and put their fists together, three Brothers standing firmly and strongly against the world. Back when he could give Roman a hug out of the blue, could get Dean to smile; a genuine smile, not the ones he could put on at a moment's notice, but a true one, as if he wasn't used to smiling but was slowly getting used to it.

Those moments tormented him now. Either it would get hard to remember when he was last actually _happy_ or those same moments would bombard him relentlessly, forcing him to remember those times with greater clarity. Remember what he had lost, what he was fighting for, yes, but what he no longer had any right to.

But he fought through it all. He had to. There was no other option. He was doing this for Dean. For them both.

He could only hope that his hard work would pay off. That this time next Survivor Series, they could all talk together once more, be Brothers again.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"It's soon." he says quietly. "I keep wondering what the result will be."

"Regardless of the outcome," Punk says, looking at him intently. "Things won't be fixed that easily. You know that and I know that. This is, if anything, the beginning."

"Yeah," he agrees. "I know that. More than anyone, probably. As much as I'd like to see the Authority lose and suffer, I'm almost _more _afraid of how they'll act if they don't have that power and position anymore."

"Things will get even rougher from here from now on, most likely."

Seth laughs mirthlessly. "When are they _not_ difficult? I've built a career off of playing off adversities. I worked my ass off to get people to notice me, to see that I am not a _good_ wrestler, I am a _great_ one. I never had any intention, back then, to work in any group with people who weren't as talented as I was. I was never going to settle for second best. I was lucky in that I got put together with two of the best people I've ever known; both in the ring and out of it."

Punk nods. "I appreciate that mentality; I have that mentality. If you don't have the hunger, the drive, the _desire_, if you don't have the mentality of _I will be the best_ then you don't need to be in our business. And in days like this when one man mostly holds the brass ring, you especially have to have that drive, that desire, to succeed. The important thing is to never lose that, even when things are at their worst or look their worst." He stretches a bit in his chair. "That's why I like you, Seth; you get it. You'd be surprised in just how many of them out there _don't_. And we'll need that mentality of yours to get through this. But try not to worry so much. I have a plan."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

To have to get hyped up for the team he was on was not exactly fun, but he found ways to work around it. He could pretend easily enough that it was just him, Dean, and Roman getting themselves pumped up before a match as they often did. And he would go out there and do his best. Despite not liking the Authority or anyone on it (other than Noble and Mercury) he still would not deliberately have a bad match, unless the situation called for it. If he had to throw a match or two here eventually for a good reason? Sure. He didn't exactly like the thought, but he was willing to do it.

"Win!"

"_WIN!_"

"This match means _so much_. Go out there and kill it. There is no other option!"

"_This match isn't an ordinary bout. They want to mess with us? __**Us? **__We'll teach them. We'll go out there and __**kill **__it! There is no other option!_"

"And you know why we're gonna be the ones who win? Because we're the _best_."

_"So what're we gonna do after we win? I mean, it's obvious why we're going to go out there and win; because we are the __**best**_._ Simple as that."_

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He comes back through the curtain last. He was both proud of the performance he put out there as well as torn with the outcome. Things were very up in the air now. With the Authority losing their Power and well, authority, they'd be out for blood. And if Seth wasn't careful, he could easily be in that line of fire-and with him, everyone ever associated with him.

The match had had some surprising things (Ziggler's amazing showing; despite the guy being on the team opposite Seth, he could still admire great wrestling. That was the nature of the business, to be adversary to someone but you could still very much admire their skill in the ring, on the mic, etc), some not (with Big Show's track record of turning on team's he was in, you think Cena would have picked more carefully the men who he let on his team-then again, maybe no one else offered to join so he had to take who he could, who knew.)

Of course the most surprising thing for people, even more than Ziggler's surprisingly great showing, or the Authority losing, was of course Sting. The man was a legend; one of the few who actually deserved that title. He had done many things in the course of his storied career and had become well known, then a legend in his own right, before even coming close to WWE's doors for the first time. No one had expected it to actually happen, so the fact that it did amazed everyone.

No one knew what his motivations were or what he really wanted, but he seemed to make a statement out there of sorts as he came out there and stared down Triple-H as he did, as he helped Ziggler and not Seth. Not that Seth expected help from Sting, but to say that he was surprised at who came out to help Ziggler was an understatement. I mean, come on, _Sting_?

What really had him wondering, almost as much as the Sting thing, if not more so, was why Sting had been the only one out there to help. With the refs getting taken out left and right, why had there not been more people out there helping the Authority's side _or _Cena's side for that matter? For that matter, where had _Cena_ been? Everyone knew the kind of person he was; he was always the first guy out there to help someone else. But he hadn't been out there. He had only shown up once Ziggler's hand had been raised and the Authority defeated. Had he been beating up on Authority guys? Maybe that explained where everyone else had went as well?

He was covered in sweat and exhausted from the long, long bout out in the ring but that didn't make him blind; he easily spots Sting off in the corner by himself, leaning against a strip of wall. And he notices Sting looking at him. Well, he needed to go that way and he wasn't afraid of him (the man was mysterious but there were very few things that actually scared Seth Rollins) so he heads that way. Somehow he still didn't expect the man to speak to him.

"Good match."

He stops. He turns to look at Sting. The man looked pretty nonchalant, considering the chaos he had caused out there not long before. For a man of his age he looked in surprisingly good shape. Then again, coming to a place like this, he expected the man to work out even harder, to send a message.

"Yeah..." he says warily. "The outcome was unexpected, but yeah, I think people will be pleased with the product."

"You feel sorry for Triple-H?"

He tenses. What was the man getting at? He finds his hackles rising, not knowing where the man was going with this and not liking that fact.

"What's it to you?" he spits out. "You don't know me."

"You're right, I don't," Sting says, blandly. "But I know men like you. I've seen your kind before. You're-"

"A menace, a traitor, someone who sold out, blah blah blah; I've heard the same spiel from many others before you, Sting, so if you're just going to spout the same-"

"-a good person." Sting finishes.

He looks at Sting more intently than before. Still wary, but more curious now.

"I don't know what you mean." he says neutrally. "I've done some nasty things in my time."

"Haven't we all?" Sting laughs softly. "But you don't get what I mean."

He starts to walk past Seth, in the direction Seth comes from, but not before standing near him.

"You're not a good a liar as you think you are, Seth Rollins."

He pats Seth's shoulders and goes on, whistling something under his breath.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He had little time to think about Sting and his cryptic remarks as he hurries out of the arena and into the nearest available car to take him to his hotel. He wasn't taking a plane until the morning so he wanted to get a shower and as much sleep (and possibly food) as he could before leaving. Somehow he had been lucky enough to avoid the growing chaos between the other people in the-now defunct, he supposed-Authority and had slipped away without being seen by anyone else of note (other than Sting, of course.)

So of course his luck had to run out as he gets to the hotel and overhears people he did not want to.

"I was gonna jump off the ladder, but nah, I'll do that another time. Do it when the bastard doesn't expect it."

"Dean, the man was beneath a table, chairs and atop a broken chair. Pretty sure he was passed out. I doubt he would have expected it."

"Yeah, but if he's knocked out then he won't know he's getting his ass kicked!"

He wants to cry and laugh at the same time. Dean and Roman. Of fucking course.

Now he'd have to try and either wait or play this out like some Metal Gear Solid shit and try to get around without being seen. He didn't like either option. Of course there was a third option, but after the match he had been in, he wasn't exactly feeling up to playing the part of Seth Rollins, Traitor Bastard, at the moment.

"Anyway, let me have your phone." Dean says to Roman.

"Why? You have one."

"Lost it. Might have left it on the plane, dunno. Anyway, just need to-"

"Last time you borrowed my phone, it ended up as fish bait in that river."

"That was _one_ time!"

"Yeah, still costs money. Seth nearly-"

He watches as Roman stops as Dean flinches. Damnit. Was that the way it was between them whenever his name was mentioned? Like he was something dirty, evil, like some fucking plague? It hurt to look at it. To look at them.

Fuck.

Well he was already this far into the place and it didn't look like they were going to move any time soon. He starts to move. Might as well...

"I almost threw Dean's bag out the window," he starts. "Which might not have been so bad if we weren't five stories up and there weren't oodles of porn in it."

"It wasn't oodle-" Dean starts, turning around, but stops cold when he sees Seth. He hadn't seen Dean since that moment between them after Smackdown. He clenches his bag tighter at the expression on Dean's face. He had learned to steel himself against things like that pretty well over the last few months, but he was tired, hungry and wanted nothing more than to pull them both as close to him as he possibly could. To feel that feeling of being again, that feeling of true belonging.

Roman doesn't say anything, he just looks at Dean, then at him. He wished Roman would speak. When he was quiet, was when he was most dangerous; that was when he could really take the time to look at someone and try and figure them out, see how they tick. Well, that wouldn't do Seth any good right now for Roman to do that. Not at all.

He doesn't do anything else, say anything else. The more he was around them, the harder it got, so he does the best thing to do in that situation; he leaves. Or tries to. He gets as far as the elevator.

"That it?" Dean challenges. He doesn't turn around. He can't. It was taking all his willpower as it was to stay put, to not do what he really wanted to. He had had time to wrap his head around the thoughts, to realize what he had been feeling, what he felt, for Dean. To realize his wants, his desires. But he'd never let himself be touched in _that _way in anger, if he could help it. Getting touched like that at a time like that was not what he wanted.

"Well, I just had a over 40 minute match where I stole the show, like usual, so I find myself a bit tired. But I'll gladly take you on, if you want." Seth retorts back. "Never been somewhere you can't find me; I'm not afraid of you."

"But you have. You've been," Dean trails off. "I can't find you anymore."

_He_ flinches now. He understood what Dean meant; that he couldn't find the Seth from before. And he wanted to. Even through all the anger, everything...he wanted to find Seth.

"I'm," his throat was dry. Damnit, why was it so dry now? He swallows as best as he can against its dryness. "Just...stop. Stop looking for me, then. I'm not somewhere you can look for me anymore."

And he heads into the elevator.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He didn't like it. At all. They were assets. And yes, they had also become friends too. But being in the ring with him was the _last_ thing he wanted. They were a bit rusty, sure, but that wasn't the real issue. The real issue here was not being able to utilize them during a crucial time such as this, with the Authority off to who knew where. There wouldn't be much time for them to in this chaos of a situation that was going to happen (sure there was a poll, but it was all but certain that it'd be them in the match with him, as the fans could easily be manipulated sometimes in going a certain way. It was all but guaranteed that it would be the three of them in a match together. And damn but if he wasn't unhappy about the situation; both for things they would not be able to do and because of the three man tag team parallel to the Shield.)

But he'd deal with it, as he always did. For now, all he could do was prep, plan, and watch.

Dean vs Luke Harper for the IC Title? He knew Dean could easily beat Harper for the thing. The real question here was about factors. Was Dean's head in the game? After their encounter, he didn't know. Was Bray Wyatt going to interfere? That was pretty much a given. The question was _when _he'd try and interfere. The man was cunning, wily, and unpredictable. Rather like Dean in a lot of ways, though he hated to make the comparison as Dean was _Dean _and Wyatt was a bastard who was owed a lot of pain and punishment courtesy of Seth Rollins for what he had done to Dean.

He spends the time during Dean's match warming up, doing some stretches and the like. It was good to get as limber as you could before a match. Warming up was pretty crucial and helped make a difference in the quality of a match, whether you were on last, first, a short match, a long match...it helped. Plus it helped him from being quite as distracted as he could be.

"Pretty good match."

Though apparently distracted enough to not notice someone as big as Kane come into the room.

He stops his stretches for a moment, eyeing Kane warily, as he often did. "Yeah..."

"I think Harper has the advantage here because of the Wyatt factor, though."

"Yeah." he says again. "Shouldn't you be doling out more concessions?"

Kane looks down at his attire and grimaces a bit. Bryan certainly hadn't given him a great job to do, but Seth supposed it was only fair, for the way Kane had treated him previously (when before they had been such good friends.)

"I'm on break." Kane says shortly. "But I'm not the one you should be worrying about."

Immediately his head turns back to the small television and immediately wishes he hadn't. God, might as well have put a "cares about Dean Ambrose" light-up sign above his head. With flashing lights and everything.

"It's not..." he trails off. He wasn't sure what he was going to say exactly.

"Don't worry; you're not as transparent to people as you might think."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You know exactly what it means, Seth. Do you want me to spell it out like Sting didn't? Although he did say you're a good guy, huh?"

He feels his hackles rising. "Were you watching?"

Kane shakes his head, not bothered by Seth and his growing anger apparently. "No. He told me."

Seth's brows raise. "You've been talking with Sting? Since when?"

Kane shrugs. Of _course _he wouldn't say.

"But even before that, I knew what you were about. I thought I made that clear enough before."

Seth shakes his head. "I don't know what you're talking about." Play the clueless card. Best to do that. This could be some kind of secret interrogation on the Authority's behalf or something. He wasn't about to play into their hands any more than he had before.

"But you do." Kane continues. He moves and sits in one of the chairs in the room. "Oh, too bad. DQ."

Seth glances back at the tv. Apparently Harper had shoved Dean into the ref, causing a DQ. What a load of shit. And then...fuck. _There _was Bray. He grits his teeth as he watches Wyatt do mostly to Dean what Dean had done to him and buries him beneath a pile of chairs, but not before putting a big hurt on him.

"Ouch, that smarts." Kane says, in his usual tone of voice. "Suppose you'll have to kiss it better later or something."

He sees red. He clutches at the man's collar, pulling at him, uncaring if the man was bigger or taller than him.

"Hey, hey. Calm down, kid. Anger like that is what will get the Authority's eyes on you when you least want it. You want to save Dean Ambrose? You want to make sure Roman Reigns doesn't get caught in the line of fire? Then you need to _calm the fuck down_."

_That _makes him stop. He lets out a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He unclutches his hands from Kane. The taller man straightens out his clothing, looking down at Seth.

"You know." Seth starts.

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Longer than you'd think."

"Then why haven't you said anything?" Seth asks. "You could have used anything you found out to hurt me the worst way possible."

"We all have our reasons for doing what we do, kid." Kane says. He pats Seth on the shoulder, reminding him of Sting. "Others may not like it, but when it comes to the people we care about, then you should never, _ever, _let anything stand in your way."

It sounded like he was speaking from experience.

"Taker?" Seth asks, not sure exactly what he was asking, but felt that the Undertaker (Kane's older brother), was involved somehow.

Kane merely nods.

"People like Triple-H and Stephanie don't forget anything. They may not use it against you immediately, but when they get something they can use, they'll use it to the largest extent possible."

"So you made a deal with the Devil, or Devils, too."

"As did you."

"Yeah...I did."

"Tell me about it."

And he did.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Well the match didn't go the way he expected; he'd have to kick Bryan's ass sometime later, at least a little bit, for throwing him back in the ring like that. He didn't appreciate that. He was no one's punching bag.

But that didn't bother him as much as the end of Raw bewildered him.

Anonymous General Manager? Again? What...

"_I've got a plan._"

...No. Surely Punk wasn't...

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He does his best to ignore Wyatt's promo on Smackdown, needing to prep for his upcoming match. He wasn't thrilled to be working against Ryback, as there was no love lost between them, but he'd do what he had to.

Or not.

Kane comes in and beats up on Ryback, causing him a DQ, but eh, it was fine. He needed to vent too, so he'd beat up on Ryback for awhile with Kane and let out some frustrations.

He was sure he'd need to, for what might be coming later.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: Well! That both went on longer, and in a bit of a different direction, than I expected! lol.

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice


	7. Weariness

Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I_ trusted_ you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter Seven - Weariness

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He hadn't heard from Punk in awhile, but wasn't exactly in a hurry to speak to him either. Nothing against the man; he was just tired, so tired. He needed a break and knew that he was not in any position to do so, but even so...he was tired. He knew what was at stake and would continue to fight but he sometimes worried when the strain would be too much. He needed to let off some steam somehow.

And while he appreciated Noble and Mercury's well-placed intentions to help him, there were some things they would never be able to help him with. Or replace.

But letting off some steam would have to come later, or translated into something he could work with in the ring as Raw would be starting soon and he had to prepare.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Did he mention he wasn't fond of Cena? It wasn't hard to find arguments and things to say against him, he who held the brass ring that so many others coveted. Even if he had other things he needed to take care of, he still never forgot that dream, that precious dream that he had talked about numerous times to his Brothers, that dream to be the best, to gain the gold, to have people talk about him, know his name...well he was even more well known than before, but for all the wrong reasons.

He needed a break.

But at least he'd have the opportunity to take out his aggressions against Cena, Ryback, and Ziggler later. He didn't have anything against Ziggler, but an opponent was an opponent and he wouldn't hold back against him. If he didn't hold back against either of his Brothers in the ring, then he certainly wouldn't hold back against anyone else either.

And putting Cena through a table helped a bit too.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

R-Truth didn't stand a chance against the man.

He hated Bray Wyatt, but even he could see just how much charisma the man had, how good he was with words. He could see why people would be gullible enough to get behind him, even if he himself was immune to said words. And he had to laugh when Bray would talk the more fantastical things. The man should know that those kinds of words and the like would not work against someone like Dean Ambrose. He had indeed struck a nerve before, talking about Dean's father and things like that, but the out there things he spoke of now would not get to Dean.

He had always admired Dean's fire, his passion, even when he pretended otherwise back in those days in FCW when they had fought one another, before they had gained that bond of Brotherhood. And he admired it now, even if he worried what might come of it later.

To break such a huge symbol to Bray Wyatt such as "Sister Abigail's" chair, it might do Dean more harm than good and he worried about it. He didn't like the look at Wyatt's eyes, his anger, his despair. Dean was a strong man in many places and fragile in places he didn't need to be. He could only hope he wouldn't see Dean splinter into pieces in front of him like the rocking chair.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It was a hard fought battle and his team didn't come out the victors. He didn't like to lose. And he certainly didn't like Rowan knocking him like he did. He'd be feeling pain for a good while.

He felt pain as he gingerly left the arena, as he gathered his few things and left the building, felt it as he jumped into the nearest cab to the nearest hotel. Felt it as he got his room and started to strip his clothes off. He falls back against the bed, too tired and in pain to take a shower. That'd have to wait until later.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He had to hold it together.

He had to.

But...no. He was going to fucking _kill_ Bray Wyatt.

God, that looked so painful. The chair, the everything. If Dean wasn't okay, he'd kill Bray Wyatt. If Dean was okay, he'd _still_ kill Bray Wyatt.

His first instinct was to run out there and he had to dig his nails painfully into his legs to keep from doing so. His next instinct was to find Bray Wyatt and rip him into pieces for even _attempting _to be near Dean, hurt Dean, to _hurt_ him. He _hurt _him.

"Keep it together. Your boy's made of tougher stuff," Kane murmurs somewhere near his left shoulder.

He was. He was right. But that still didn't stop it from hurting. But he was right. He had to focus. Worry could come later.

"Let's hurry and talk to Show then you can get ready for your match later."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He was the best out there. It wasn't egotism. Really, it wasn't. It was obvious if one looked at them all. He had the most talent, the most skill. His hands itched to have better opponents again. Opponents like Ziggler, or even Dean again. Even if he cared about him, it had always been fun to fight him. They had been equals since the beginning, even when he hadn't wanted to admit it. They had known each other so well from the moment they fought. It had been a moment he'd never forget, because he hadn't felt that way before or since.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Ziggler was a good opponent. He wouldn't deny that. He also had a chip on his shoulders, thanks to the Authority's continued harassment. So someone who was talented had to work even harder than before to get even a tenth of what they deserved. It wasn't his place to try and fix that for him. He didn't hate the guy, but he had his own problems to take care of. And his Mission came before anything else.

He doesn't complain when Noble and Mercury interfere on his behalf. A win was a win right now. He'd take it. After all, when it counted, he needed no help to prove why he was great.

The Slammy's continue and Sting wins for his debut, during Team Cena and Team Authority's match. He stomps up the entrance ramp and over to the booth, giving a nice little rant. He wasn't honestly mad at Sting, of course, not really. He was curious and a bit confused at to the man's motives, but not angry. He'd only get angry if Sting's actions inadvertently hurt Dean or Roman in some way. He wondered what the man's intentions were. He had appeared only once so far and that was to put a huge wrench into the Authority and their future plans. He had been a huge catalyst in stopping them as they were (Ziggler too, was a huge catalyst; he had pulled through insurmountable odds when no one, _no one_, expected him to do so. He wondered if Cena was upset about that fact, that Ziggler had done it, and not he. Done what he couldn't.)

Well, Sting wasn't around so he'd take his Slammy for himself for awhile, add to his ever growing collection. He couldn't say it wasn't a nice stroke to the ego in getting so many acknowledgements like he had. Though he had to keep from flinching when The Shield had been named for best group. Obviously they were. No one could touch them in terms of skill, not in his (probably biased) opinion anyway. Still, he had the Slammy.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Paul Heyman.

The man was many things and people said many things about him. Some good, some not so good. But what most could agree on, was the man was smart. Maybe not in the financial sense, but when it came to seeing stars? Making stars out of those people never expected? Seeing potential when no one else did? He was second to almost no one else when it came to that. The man had a great eye.

He was a little surprised the man decided to accost him in the hallway, but he wasn't that worried about it. He hadn't seen the man personally in awhile, but he had no bad feelings towards him. Punk, on the other hand, might still. He wondered what Punk thought of someone who had been a good friend to him now.

Paul Heyman saw something in him? That he was the future? That wasn't news to him; he had heard that a long time back, back when he, Dean, and Roman were just starting out as a group together. He hadn't forgotten those times, even when he wanted to most.

It wasn't false words to say that he was going to beat Cena at TLC. He wholeheartedly believed it. Cena wasn't invincible, despite what some might think. No one was. And he'd seize any opportunity, anything that would give him the slightest advantage or edge against him.

He'd beat Cena, then Lesnar would be next on his list. He said as much to Heyman.

"This briefcase gives me _opportunity_, Paul. And you better believe me when I say I'll take it. And when I cash in? You _and _your client will never see it coming."

_Believe that._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

There was always an ambulance on standby at events in case of emergencies. It had been that way for years, after some nasty things had happened.

He hadn't been looking for him. Really. He had been making his way for some fresh air and privacy for a few moments, when he hears the muttering curses from a voice he'd know anywhere in any situation. Dean. He cautiously glances around the corner, taking in the sight of him, breathing a silent sigh of relief. He was well. Pissed off as hell, but he was well. After the brutal attack by Bray Wyatt, he had been worried about his wellbeing, but hadn't been in the position he needed to be to properly check on him and his condition. So seeing him walking around like he was made him feel better.

He knew Dean could take a lot of physical punishment, but even he could only take so much.

"Fuck, I hate new arenas," Dean mutters to himself, unaware Seth was listening to every word he was saying. He looked more than just _well_. He looked _good_. His eyes rake over him before he can stop himself. Jeans, well Dean liked jeans. He wore them often (both pants and shorts) in their downtime. It was usually part of his outfit of choice. And while Dean hadn't _hated_ the pants they wore in the Shield, they hadn't been what he usually wore. He _did_, however hate the vest accessories they wore as part of their outfit. _Hated_ them. He had complained about them to Seth or Roman often and had did his best to do away with them at every opportunity as well.

_"It's almost time to go on. Where's your vest, Dean?" Roman would ask, with more patience than Seth could. _

_"Dunno. Might have gotten shrunk in the wash or somethin'."_

_"I checked there."_

_"Dry cleaning?"_

_"That was your excuse last time."_

_"Shut up, Seth."_

_"__**Make me**__."_

_"Come here and I will."_

_"Enough. So?" Roman crosses his arms, looking at Dean. _

_Dean scratches his neck. "Uh...who knows. Maybe they somehow ended up in Eva Marie's bag."_

_Eva Marie. Who was on a plane very far away from where they currently were. _

_"How the fuck did it end up there?"_

_Dean shrugs, the little shit, as if he didn't know. Seth didn't know if he wanted to punch him or laugh. Or both. Or...no. He shakes his head from that __**other**__ thought that was not allowed in, even in his own thoughts. "Someone might have stolen her shampoo because he was out."_

_So __**that**__ was why he smelled like lavender and lilacs. Huh._

"Where the fuck do they put ambulances anyway?"

The back, Seth wanted to say. That's pretty much where they always were, but Dean had a habit of forgetting something if it didn't interest him. If he _really_ thought about it, Seth was sure Dean would remember, but Dean was also stubborn.

He quickly turns around back the corner when Dean starts to look his way, only letting out a breath of relief when he hears his retreating footsteps.

So he was looking for an ambulance?

He heads back a little bit and sees the ambulance Dean was looking for. It was empty. The paramedic who kept an eye out for the ambulance was not around, probably on break. He starts to head back when he sees the paramedic coming his way. A plan instantly forms in his mind. He walks past the man, stumbling a bit as he bumps into him.

"Oh, sorry man. Didn't see you there." Seth mutters.

"It's cool. You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just a bit tired. I'm good."

He walks in the direction the paramedic comes from and when he's out of site, he jangles the keys he grabbed from him. Well, let it be said that a few of the things Dean told him about came in handy.

Now he'd just have to find a way to get the keys to him.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He was tired. He had been doing a lot of running around all day, even after his match with Ziggler. Still, it had been worth it to see Dean with that devil-may-care attitude of his, pulling those punches like he did to Bray. He was sure he would be running around more within the next few days.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He was right.

First he has to deal with Cena cutting a promo on him. Which, to be fair, doesn't really bother him as much as Cena would like. Was it annoying the man always bagging on him? Sure. But Seth was a secure person and Cena talking trash did not hurt him; just annoyed him. And he could easily annoy Cena right back by cutting a promo on him. So he does.

Still, he couldn't say that Cena's underdog act didn't bother him at all; the man was over a ten time champ. And while he may have been through a lot of shit as of late from the Authority and the like, an underdog he was not.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He was tired.

He felt a mental weakness, a tiredness to the bone, that was starting to affect him more than any physical pain he dealt with. He was used to dealing with physical pain; it was part and parcel of the job of a professional wrestler. You either got used to physical pain or you didn't stay in the business long.

But mental strain, tiredness? That was a different beast entirely and it involved many different factors to treat rather than the remedies you'd use for your physical aches and pains. He couldn't ice down his emotions, no matter how much he had tried to.

And seeing Bray Wyatt's smug, stupid freaking face so often wasn't helping him any. Mind you, he was the one who chose to watch as he was out there, so it was his own fault, but he did it because he had to; he had to watch, had to see if Dean would come out, what Dean would do, if Dean would be okay. He couldn't help himself.

But all the same, it was taking a toll on him. Something had to give, and soon.

He feels better seeing Dean's promo. Dean would be dealing with a hell of a hard match during TLC in a Tables, Ladders, and Chairs match. They were notorious for being hell on the body. If only it was just Dean's body he had to worry about.

But all the same, it was taking a toll on him. Something had to give, and soon.

Which is why, in his tired state, he finds himself sitting at a local bar getting a drink and somehow finds himself sitting next to Roman Reigns.

"Seth."

Shit.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice


	8. (Breakthrough)

Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I_ trusted_ you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter Eight - (Breakthrough)

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

He inwardly sighs. His luck really sucked as of late. Well as of June when he betrayed those nearest and dearest to him and seemingly turned his back on them.

"Shouldn't you be rehabing or something?" he mutters, determinedly not looking over at Roman.

"What does it matter to you, Seth?" Roman asks in return.

"It doesn't." He grimaces a bit. "I'm not in the mood to fight, but if you want to, I'm still more than capable of-"

"Do you feel confident about TLC?"

He turns to Roman. "What is this, Reigns? Really, what is this? Why do you keep asking me questions _like I care what you have to say_**. **Because newsflash, if all those chair shots weren't indication enough, I don't care what you have to say. Or what Ambrose has to say. And for you to sit there and-" he breaks off before he can say more. It hurt. It _hurt_ and he hated that it did. Most of all, he hated himself.

Roman looks unfazed. Seth was sure he was used to hearing ever tirade, every bad word, Seth could say to him (or Dean) now. Even if it hurt he wasn't letting on. He merely looks at Seth with a look Seth couldn't quite decipher.

"Do you feel confident?" Roman asks again, quietly but firmly.

Seth laughs mirthlessly, shaking his head. He takes a long swig from his drink before answering. "What do you think? Cena has no one. And I have-" _No one. _"my ways of doing things. It'll be great-because I'm in it-and even greater when I take away Cena's chance to take on Lesnar."

"Will it?"

He grits his teeth. What was with the question portion of the night all of a sudden?

" .will." he grits out. "Do you really think Cena deserves title shot number fifty million and one?"

"I thought you didn't care what I had to say, Seth."

He could almost _hear_ the smirk in Roman's voice and it sets him off. He gets up quickly, chair clattering to the floor, ignoring the exclamation from the bartender and the few patrons still in the bar.

"You know what; _fuck you, Roman._ Don't sit there, smirking, as if you know everything. Because, guess what, _you don't_. So shut the fuck up about things you know nothing about."

He starts to turn the other way and leave, feeling angrier than he had in a good, long time.

"Seth."

He stops, cursing inwardly. Something in Roman's tone was different.

"Will you ever tell me?"

_Will you ever tell me?_

What the fuckwas _that_ supposed to mean?

Will you ever tell me?

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_Well I'm even __**less **__inclined to tell you anything after you hit me with that Punch of yours._

_Oww._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_Will you ever tell me?_

That phrase was sticking with him, even now. Even after that impromptu conversation, even after getting punched by him. It was sticking with him.

And now he had to wrestle him.

And it felt different. He felt off his game and he didn't like it. Five little words sticking in his head, hitting him over and over again, making him think about it when he didn't want to, need to, and the worst times to. Such as now. He had to psych himself up to get going. Even when going through a lot, he could usually get that out of his head for the most part when wrestling. But now?

And the "you sold out" chants were not helping either. Neither was Noble and Mercury trying to help him. Frustration? Sure. Start slow, then sucker him in. He had to take him out as quickly as possible. Maybe then the words would leave his mind, even if the guilt remained.

But it was different.

Why was it different?

Roman had the time to hurt him, really hurt him.

Instead he was slapping him around, smacking his head.

Personal, but not the kind of personal he expected.

One armed powerbomb? He'd have been duly impressed if it hadn't been done on him.

So much back forth. So much on his mind, yet when he gets him in a headlock all he can say is:

"Your breath smells like Cheetos."

He feels more than hears Roman's breathless laugh.

Despite the circumstances (for various reasons), he still liked to wrestle Roman. While they're chemistry wasn't quite on par with his and Dean's, it was still very good. Then again, he knew for a fact that despite all the people he had wrestled up to this point, none of them had even come close to the chemistry, that spark, that he and Dean had from the moment they laid eyes on each other in that ring in that little place called FCW.

"Get up, Roman!"

He didn't really think about the fact that he called him Roman out there, rather than Reigns, like he should have.

Getting hit by Roman felt like getting hit by a train. All impact, all pain.

Yeah, he really didn't like Big Show interfering. He and Roman were doing just fine (better than fine, in his opinion) without anyone else's help. He didn't need any one else's help to win. Yet Big Show felt the need to interfere and mess with Roman.

He also _really _didn't like the fact that Big Show hurt Roman like that.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Time passed in a flurry.

Regardless if he liked the circumstances or not (he didn't), whether or not he liked the Authority or not (he _really_ didn't), things dictated that the Authority needed to return. In this case, evil needed to be closer at hand for him (and the people who had somehow decided to want to help him) to take out in a significant way. In this way, them being closer, while _annoying_, was also necessary. So he had been having to think of the best way to bring them back, all the while listening to ideas from other people as well.

Surprisingly the idea that worked came from Kane.

_"Heard from J & J that you've been trying to find a way to bring the Authority back." Kane says. He didn't look mad or anything like that, funnily enough. _

_"Yeah." he bites out. He was cranky from dealing the things he had been for awhile as well as trying to bring back the people he despised most._

_Kane didn't even blink._

_"Well, Edge and Christian are coming back to guest host Raw, right?" At Seth's nod he continues. "Use it to your advantage."_

_To his advantage, huh? Well Christian wasn't a full time wrestler right now, because of a previous injury but he could still fight if push came to shove. Edge...Edge was a different story. He used to be a great wrestler, but the injury he had sustained had cut his career short. If there was a possibility of reinjury Cena might...huh._

_"I'll have to make it look legit." he murmurs, almost to himself more than to Kane. "Get Edge set up somewhere to force Cena's hand."_

_He looks up to see Kane nodding in approval. "Now you're getting it, kid."_

_If it had been just about anyone else, he would have bitched them out for the "kid" remark, but it was Kane and, surprise of all surprises, he respected the man. The older man had a lot of experience at his disposal (and some of it having dealt with HHH and the like in the past) so it came in handy to have on his side. _

_Fine. This would require even more finesse on his part, but he was up for the challenge. He'd make it look legit, and real, and force Cena's hand. He wasn't a Cena fan by any stretch of the imagination, but he couldn't deny he felt bad for having to get him to bring them back by doing things this way._

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Well, they were back.

When they all get to the back, Triple-H gives him a big hug. "You did it, kid! We're so proud of you."

He felt like throwing up.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The segments started on Main Event, then Superstars, but he didn't first catch them until Smackdown.

He was cooling off in his locker room when something on the tv catches his attention.

They were showing the Titantron and it was black for a moment, before people in black hoodies and white masks (not like the sheep mask that Erick Rowan wore, but closer to the Guy Fawkes masks.) When they speak, their voices are distorted.

_"So it begins." the distorted voice in front says. "Evil may have set foot back here but we will not standby and let them continue on the path they are on now. You're on notice."_

Then the screen goes black again.

...what the hell was that?

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A triple threat match at Royal Rumble?

Although he hated the Authority with every fiber of his being, and although he knew he had a steep hill to climb in the names of Brock Lesnar and John Cena, he couldn't lie and say he wasn't happy about the opportunity. Beat them both and become champion OR let someone else become champion (or retain) and THEN beat them for the title. Either way he had good odds in his favor for walking out of Royal Rumble with THE title, the main prize, around his waist.

Ambition warred with his duty, his Mission, but it would never ultimately win out. It might be equal, but he would never truly backstab Roman and Dean. Not for anything. The Authority could throw every title at him to do it and he'd spit in their faces and say fuck off.

A triple threat...

He'd like, one day, that he'd see his, Roman, and Dean's named billed as last match at Wrestlemania for the WWE World Heavyweight championship...there was an end goal he could get behind.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

...he had to face them _both_? He inwardly winces. This was not going to be a pleasant experience for him. He knew he had it coming to him, at least from their perspectives, but still, he wanted to fight them like he had in the past. Back when it was about respect, back when...even back further when he was not yet their friend, when he had yet to become their Brother. Even back then...at least Dean didn't loathe him then. Pissed off at him, sure, but it was not the simmering, seething, hatred of now. It hurt to look at him, at both of them.

Still, he gets angry at their laughter, their happiness at getting to hurt him. He knew he had no right but it still hurt him and he couldn't hold it back. It was getting hard to hold back anything anymore.

He is steaming after the match and stalks around in the back, trying to work some of the anger and frustration out. What he does not expect is to run, literally, into Dean's back.

And that he was back there alone.

"Oww! Hey, jerkass, watch where you're-" Dean turns around and stops as he sees who bumped into him.

Seth stares at him, anger swimming around in him, mixed with other emotions he couldn't, or wouldn't, name.

"Feel bad, does it? Not quite as bad as you and Roman out there double teaming me though, I bet."

Dean's brows furrow for the briefest of moments before he lets out a breathless little laugh; if it could even be called a laugh.

"You're _mad_? _You_? _After everything, Seth?_"

_Now_ Dean laughs, a real one this time, and it sets off Seth even more. In a moment he finds himself pushing Dean against the nearest wall.

"_Shut the fuck up, Dean._"

And he kisses him.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: Seth, bby, what are you doing?! Not like this! *cries* Breaking my heart...

But yeah, to be expected, given how much Seth has on his plate and all. There was always going to be a breaking part _somewhere_, where something had to give...

I hope you enjoyed this!

Let me know what you think!

-PhoenixJustice


	9. The Beginning

Hysteria

By: PhoenixJustice

Disclaimer: WWE is property of a zillion people that aren't me. I do not own the characters, storylines, people portraying them, etc. I only own this story and I make no profit from this.

Warning: Rated M for language, violence, sexual situations, slash, etc.

Pairing: eventual Dean Ambrose/Seth Rollins, etc.

Setting: Post-Hell in a Cell 2014 and the Raw the night after, etc.

Summary: "You stabbed me in the back, you son of a bitch." "You are my Brother. I trusted you. I_ trusted_ you, Seth. After everything..." "Wyatt is just a tiny, annoying, blip on my radar; don't ever think that my eyes aren't watching you, Seth."

A/N: Also known as: in which I had too many feels to count thanks to this PPV so I must write fic to feel better.

A/N 2: Also, ALSO known as: in which Seth fucked up and now has to find a way to fix it.

A/N 3: M rating definitely needed here! Intimate times ahoy!

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Chapter Nine - The Beginning

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

His head was swimming. He could feel Dean's lips against his; hot, wet, and most of all hungry as they pushed against his. It was fast, hard, and amazing. It was both the best moment of his life and the worst. His hands find Dean's arms, holding on tightly, barely noticing that their roles had been reversed and it was now him up against the wall he had pushed Dean over to.

It's Dean's hesitant hands cupping the sides of his face that wakes him up and he realizes the full extent of both what he had done and what he was doing with Dean now, what Dean was doing with him. He pushes Dean away with a gasp, panting as Dean was panting. He refrains from touching his hand to his lips like he wants to, instead moving quickly away, wanting to get as much distance away from him and Dean as possible. Looking at him was hurting.

"No, not this time!" Dean exclaims and he stops in place as he feels Dean's hand tugging hard at his arm.

He turns. "Let me go, Dean!"

Abruptly Dean does and he starts to leave again when he grabs him again.

"Damnit, D-Ambrose," he hisses. "Let me go, I said!"

Dean shakes his head. "No. Not until we...talk." He wasn't really looking at Seth, but still held onto his arm tightly.

"I don't have time for this. And talk? Us?" Seth laughs mirthlessly. "Every time we get near each other all we do is put our hands on each other-" He stops, unable to stop from flushing or the thought that came to mind. 'Hands on each other' had a whole new meaning now.

"You are my Brother. I trusted you," Dean says quietly, his words cutting through Seth like a knife; he had heard the tense Dean had used when he said Brother. You are my brother. Not were. "I _trusted _you, Seth. After everything..." And he had been through so much in his life. He hazards a glance at Dean. Dean swallows hard. "Even if you hate me now, you couldn't have all the time back then. Or at least I thought..."

Damnit. He couldn't do this now. He couldn't do this _period_. It was much too dangerous. But he was tired. And he couldn't get the memories out of his head, or forget the feeling of Dean's lips on his.

He bites his lip. He looks around. No one in sight. But that didn't mean that wouldn't change soon. And Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose being near each other and _not_ fighting would look highly suspicious. He swallows against a lump of his own. "I...damnit, you never like to make anything easy, do you?"

Dean lets out that breathless little laugh of his again. "Of course not, Seth; you've known that since we first locked up in FCW."

He did. And he'd probably come to regret this later, but still- "Fine, then. If you insist so much." He jerks his head in a direction. "There's some rooms back this way we can talk without getting interrupted."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

They managed to find a room far back into the Arena, an area in where none of the wrestlers went to, as far as he could tell; people liked the closeness of the other rooms too much and always strove to find the closest rooms to the entrance of the Arena, rather than the back. The room they go into also seemed to be some sort of conference/locker area. Off to the side is a table and chairs. He plops down into one of the chairs with an audible sigh, rubbing at his eyes. The tiredness was coming back in full force, warring with the leftover adrenaline, anger, and...other emotions he wanted to feel but couldn't let himself.

He moves his hands from his face when he hears Dean take a seat down near him. The focus in Dean's eyes was unnerving him, as it often did.

"So," he says abruptly, doing his best not to look at Dean. "You wanted to talk, Ambrose. So talk."

Dean hums for a moment, seemingly pondering or thinking about something.

"Mmm. Well...damn," Dean says. Seth chances a glance at him and sees him looking down, biting on his lip. He had a habit of doing that sometimes. Just another thing he remembered about Dean. All the little things, the details, those things never left him, even when he did everything to not remember them. "Never ever thought I'd get this far, to be honest. I..."

He looks up at Seth and Seth has to fight not to look away at the intensity in the other man's gaze. And the next thing Dean says hits Seth hard.

"Why?"

He didn't have to be a mind reader to know what that question was. He could have been talking about the heated kiss they had just shared moments earlier or anything else, but he knew it wasn't that. It was farther back and simpler than that. The unspoken question: 'Why did you betray us?' 'Betray me_?' _It also rang in the same sort of tone and question that Roman had asked him before; 'Will you ever tell me?'

So he hadn't accepted Seth's words after his betrayal then. Had they sounded hollow to Dean? But no, they had to have meant _something _harsh to him, for the way he had (rightfully so) reacted. So then, why ask now? Did he honestly think Seth would say anything to him? He was in a precarious position and although he knew he had to be careful in what he said, he was tired and it was getting harder and harder to pretend. At least to those he cared about.

Seth forces out a laugh; probably a pale imitation of the fake laughter he had forced himself to master, but he did the best he could with it. "I thought I already told you that with those chair shots across your and Roman's back."

Dean doesn't flinch but it's a close thing.

"Maybe I wanna hear it again." Dean challenges.

Seth crosses his arms. "And what good will that do you, Ambrose? What's happened, happened."

Dean nods, then puts his head down a bit. Then his head shoots back up suddenly, the fire back in his eyes.

"You're a piece of shit, Seth."

Seth starts to rise. "Should have known this would just be about insulting me. I'm out."

Dean is around the table quicker than expected and he pushes Seth back into the chair before he can respond.

"You're a piece of shit, Seth," Dean repeats, arms on either side of Seth. "But I can't forget things like you can. Even if you never liked me. If you always hated me...it's never gonna stop me from how I feel about you."

His heart thuds hard in his chest and this time when Dean comes in close, head leaning down towards his, he does not stop him. Dean's lips touch his again and he makes a sound deep in his throat, his arms yank on Dean's shirt, pulling him even closer. Lips clash as they both fight for dominance, he moans as Dean's tongue moves inside his mouth and he rushes to reciprocate, unable to help himself. Dean is now all but straddling his lap and he moans again as Dean rubs on him, thrusting up to meet him and hearing Dean's moan in return.

The extra sudden weight in the chair is too much for it and it tips over, spilling them away from it, with Dean still very much on top of him. The kissing never stops, not until Dean lifts his head for a moment to pull Seth's shirt up as far as he can and then those lips touch his heated skin. He jerks as Dean's lips touch his chest, hissing as it moves over a nipple. His already tight pants were much tighter now and he squirms as Dean's mouth starts to travel lower. In all his fevered imagination (when he had actually allowed himself to think about Dean and think about him in _that way_), he had never expected anything to actually come from it.

He feels, more than sees, Dean working on his belt and pants, managing to pull out his throbbing cock. He had never been so hard. Dean moves back a bit and he groans from the loss of contact. He sees Dean's shaky hands move to pull off his shirt, opening up his own pants as quickly as he could.

"Dean-" he breathes.

"Shh," Dean says, moving back over him. "Don't, Seth."

He kisses him again, effectively shutting him up. The contact of skin on skin causes them both to groan and he moves up against Dean, unable to help himself. Dean moans loudly against his ear, rutting against him in return.

"Stop that," Dean hisses. He bites on Seth's ear and it makes him move against him harder, instead of the opposite.

He could feel it building and when Dean's hand moves to wrap roughly around both of their cocks, he knew it would be soon.

"Stop," Seth breathes, hips jerking at each rough pull. His vision was starting to go. "I'm-"

Dean only starts to move faster, harder, laughing softly into Seth's ears.

"Good," Dean says, breath starting to catch. "Come for me, Seth."

He didn't know what set it off, his words or his touch but he does, groaning loudly as he comes, splattering them both and Dean follows suit a moment later, moving against Seth with a frantic pace, spurting on both of them.

Silence for a long moment, both of them breathing hard, Dean still laying heavily over him but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Not until Dean moves off of him and hears him working to close his pants back. _Then _everything hits him like a freight train.

What had he done?

He stands as quickly as he can on his shaky legs, fumbling with his pants, jumping as he feels Dean's hands back on him.

"Here. Let me help."

He looks at Dean but luckily Dean is focused on getting Seth back into his super tight pants and not looking at him.

What had he done?

Job finished, Dean looks back up at him. His brows furrow. "Seth-"

He pushes Dean's hands away. "Don't. Just-"

"_No, Seth._" Dean kisses him again and he curses himself as he is unable to stop himself from kissing him back. Dean pulls back, still breathing a bit hard. "No."

"No what?" Seth says, almost hysterically. "No _what_? What do you _expect _from me?! If it's a fuck buddy you're looking for, I-"

"No." Dean looks frustrated. "You-" He stops.

Seth shakes his head. "I can't, Dean." he says sadly. He understood what he was trying to say, ask, even if he couldn't get the words out. He knew Dean very well, after all. "I-can't."

He moves away and this time Dean doesn't stop him, nor does he say anything when he gets to the door. He pauses, hand on the knob.

"_I'm sorry_." Seth says softly, before he loses the nerve.

He wondered if Dean understood what he meant.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Raw passes in most of a blur and he's thankful for that. He hadn't heard from Dean since then or crossed paths with him.

...really, Sting. _Again_?

He didn't have anything against the man personally, but he would have much rather faced Lesnar on his-well, actually it was probably better to have the Beast focused on two targets, instead of one; he could pit Cena against Lesnar and take advantage in the end. And even if he didn't win the match, he had the Ace in the Hole named the MitB contract. He'd use it.

Anything to keep from feeling this way and thinking about Dean.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A/N: Wow, so...okay, I didn't honestly expect that to happen yet lol. I knew it'd be SOON, but I just started writing and they just decided to change plans. Not that I mind lol. Of course this doesn't automatically fix things or anything. But it's a starting point? Maybe? Hopefully? lol. Wait, why am I asking?! I know how things are gonna go in the end! xD

I hope you all enjoyed this!

Let me know what you thought!

-PhoenixJustice


End file.
